Rose by Day, Thorn by Night
by WideEyedDreamer01
Summary: By day she's Rose Hathaway, the smart, beautiful young woman living in the high-rises of Manhattan. By night she becomes the dangerous rouge spy out for revenge on those who burned her at any cost, roaming the streets of New York, a killer known only as Rosemarie. Dimitri Belikov is hired to capture the elusive Rosemarie-but what happens when he falls-hard- for the other Rose? RnR!
1. Chapter 1

**Here's the first chapter- I'd love a couple of reviews!**

Some people say that they are a completely different person around different people. I guess it's true-my best friend Lissa, who is a Psychology graduate, would argue that we change our behavior to fit in with the group we're surrounded by. It's a pretty natural thing to do, and loads of people do it.

They've got nothing on me.

My name is Rose Hathaway and I lead the ultimate double life. By first impressions I've got it pretty good-great friends, awesome job-not to mention I live smack bang in the middle of New-freakin'-York, the greatest city on earth (in my humble opinion) But there is a darker side to me, one that comes out as the sun goes down, a side only to be revealed once I can hide behind the thick dusk of night. Y'see, I'm a spy. Rather, I was. Before the 21st of October, 2008 (nearly four years ago) in central Russia. Before the horrible accident that framed me as a mole and cost me my job, my friends and the life I treasured. I don't know who framed me, but since that day I've been working on it. My agency stabbed me in the back, captured me and would have killed me if I hadn't managed to escape. I fled to the Big Apple, knowing I could easily lose myself there and figuring I could start a new life for myself. By pure chance I was reunited with my biological father, Abe Mazur, a wealthy (and shady) stockbroker. I've never given him the details of what happened, but I'm sure he's guessed it was something bad.

So now, I live in one of the tallest buildings in the centre of New York, teaching at the New York Academy for Dance. I teach classical ballet, music and art-the complete opposite of who I was before, but that's the point. I have it good-literally the best of both worlds. Eventually, I know that they'll catch me. I know they want me back badly-I know far too much, I'm a threat. But what they didn't anticipate is that I want them, as well. They burned me in the worst way possible. They'll pay, oh yes they will. Come hell or high tide, they'll pay for what they've done to me.

So when they come for me, I'll be ready.

**Did y'all like it? What do you think of Rose's double life? Sorry if my story seemed OOC, this is my first VA fanfiction! Review!**

**Em xx**


	2. Chapter 2: My Heart Will Go On

**WOW! So I had a pretty good (and quick) response to the first chapter, which is great. Thanks to the people who reviewed or followed this story-I **

**wasn't going to publish this chap untill at least tomorrow, but seeing such a nice response made me decide to put this chap up early. **

**I'm aiming for at least THREE reviews for this chapter, because the first one got two! Enjoy!**!

"Rose! Pass the popcorn!" Mia hollered from the couch adjacent to me. I scowled, my fingers tightening defensively around the bowl. Lissa laughed at the both of us and passed Mia another bag. She subsided happily, but not without one final glare in my direction. With my toe I poked my other best friend, Sydney, who was kneeling in front of the huge TV unit, trawling through the near-endless list of DVD's.

"Will you pick something already?" I groaned. "Before we all become little old ladies and die?" Sydney flicked her platinum-blonde hair in response.

"We'd already be watching something if you weren't so goddamned picky, Rose," she reminded me. I rolled my eyes. She was right, but I couldn't help it. If we'd been at my apartment, things would have been different. But as it were, it had been Lissa's turn to host our movie night, and her perfectly white-wood TV unit was stocked with enough sappy chick flicks to make even me, a girl with the hardest of stomachs, nauseous.

"Enough!" Lissa said determinedly, pushing past a lounging Mia. "I'll pick."

"Aw, hell no," I muttered. She ran one slender, manicured finger down the list of movies and plucked one out at random.

"Ooh!" Mia squealed. "The Titanic! I love that movie."

"Oh no," I groaned, burying my head in one of Lissa's custom-made, turquoise pillows.

"Kill me now!" I begged Sydney, who winked, hopped onto the plush off-white couch and dug a huge handful of popcorn from my bowl. I rolled my eyes, but I knew when I was beaten, so I settled in with my three best friends, consoling myself that I had food.

* * *

Two hours and forty-five minutes later, I was in agony. Leonardo whoever-he-was was hot, I'd admit that much, but not quite hot enough to keep me in my seat for this long.

"Rose!" Sydney hissed. "Quit wriggling. We aren't exactly shoving bamboo splinters under your nails here."

"Speak for yourself," I muttered. The funny thing was, I spoke from experience, and I'd trade torture for the Titanic any day.

"Shh!" Mia and Lissa hissed in perfect sync, without even taking their eyes off of the screen. They had both been reduced blubbering wrecks numerous times, but now they were transfixed by the scene, the two main characters dangling precariously from the railing at the very top of the boat. Even Sydney was mesmerized.

"This is pathetic." I complained. "You all know what's going to-"

"Shh!" All three of them yelled, and I grinned, reaching over to Lissa's bowl of popcorn. How she had made hers last so long, I had no idea. Mine was finished before they had even got on the freaking boat. I must have zoned out for a while, because I was brought back to reality with the sound of loud sobbing. Staring confusedly at the screen, I realized it was coming from the emotionally-hypersensitive wreck that had once been Lissa.

"Noo," She crooned. "Don't let him go," she begged the onscreen Rose as they kissed.

"They could have both totally fit on there"; I interjected, and was promptly hit with a pillow by an angry, slightly tearful Sydney as Jack slipped underwater. As he disappeared, fresh wails rose from my three friends, and mercifully the movie ended before I could catch the sobs as well. The screen went blank and I yawned.

"Well. I still think Texas Chainsaw Massacre would have been a much better choice."

"Eww," Lissa said predictably, crinkling her nose.

"Shouldn't you feel a little sympathy towards her?" Mia asked. "Rose, I mean." I snorted.

"Yeah right. Who cares about some sappy sod that's too stupid to realize she could have pulled him up with her?"

"I do," Lissa and Sydney chorused. I shook my head and grinned.

"She would have been better off married to the other guy. Screw Jack, she would have been rich," I continued, steeling myself for the barrage of insults.

"Rose!" Lissa admonished.

"It was lo-o-ve," Mia crooned. "Real love. Ain't that right, Syd?" She drawled.

"Doesn't exist," I said flatly, but couldn't help a reluctant smile and the cries of outrage that instantly surrounded me. But I was telling the truth. I didn't believe in love in the sappy romantic movie way that most girls are hankering for. Maybe because I've been out in the real world, and I've seen how ugly things can get it you allow yourself to become emotional. Hesitation or emotional ties can mean the difference between life and death.

"I gotta go," I drawled, glancing at my phone. "It's ten-thirty and I have a class tomorrow morning. Plus all that shitty homework to mark." I hugged each of them in turn.

"Bye, Rose!" Liss said cheerfully. "I'll see you for lunch tomorrow downtown, right?" She said brightly. I nodded.

"You got it." With a wave I left the apartment, crossing to the storage cupboard where I'd stashed my duffel bag. I quickly took the elevator down and hit the streets running. The cool, slightly smoky air held a little bit of excitement tonight as something strange stirred within me. Night had fallen, and it was time for Rosemarie to come out.

* * *

Ten minutes later I stepped out of an alleyway looking almost like a different person. I'd stepped inside the grotty little first-floor apartment that served as Rosemarie's hidey-hole to change. I'd been wearing a pair of denim skinnies, a red silky shirt and black ballet flats to Lissa's house-now, I doubted if my friends would even recognize me. I'd let my long, wavy brown hair down and straightened it all, making it look even longer and darker. I'd used makeup to make my eyes larger and darker, more intimidating, my lips a dark but subtle crimson, my skin flawless. I was wearing black heels, tight black pants and a black wool trench coat that fell to my knees, complete with a black scarf.

Quietly I left the apartment, my heels clacking on the concrete as I walked towards my target for tonight. I had been getting closer to finding out who had framed me all those years ago. It had been consuming my every thought, making me more ruthless, smarter and stronger. Tonight, I was going to find the middle man. The one who had organized my being set up. His name was Witten, Samuel Witten, he'd worked as a Russian diplomat in the US foreign service with a CIA background. I didn't know why he'd been involved, but that was about to change. Maybe tonight I would get the answers I so desperately needed.

I saw him from miles away, coming out of the restaurant just like I'd planned. He'd just had dinner with a "work associate", but he didn't realize that said associate was a guy off the street I'd payed to pretend to be the other person. Said other person was currently locked in a cupboard, but that was beside the point. Witten was waiting for a cab on the near-deserted street when I came up behind him, pressing my gun to his temple.

"Hola, motherfucker," I hissed, baring my teeth into a savage kind of grin. "Let's take a walk."

* * *

Five minutes later we were in the middle of central Park. He was walking stiffly, clearly both terrified and confused. He was a middle-aged man, maybe forty-five, with pale skin and a bit of paunch around the belly. Both of us knew I would beat him in a fight, so he'd put up no struggle so far. I shoved him towards one of the trees, never taking my eyes, or my gun, off of him.

"Who-who are you?" He stammered. I laughed.

"Why, dontcha remember me, sir?" I spat. "I go by Rosemarie." His eyes widened as he realized who I was and what I wanted.

"You!" He gasped. "You've been killing all the-"

"All the agents," I finished, smiling. "Sure have. Karma's a bitch, huh? But enough about me." I came closer, ramming the barrel of the gun into his throat.

"Who set me up?" I growled in his ear. "I know you know. _You_ arranged the tip-off. _You _organized the whole thing."

"It was orders!" He said desperately. "I didn't know-"

"Enough," I spat, and loaded the gun. "Last chance, Witten. Who-was-it? I said slowly." He took a deep breath.

"I don't know. I don't know anything," he told me, his chin quivering like the pathetic cowad he was. He was lying. I could see the lie in his eyes clear as day.

"Well then," I said evenly. "I suppose-"

"No!" He gasped. "Don't. I-All I know is that it came from the top. Real high up."

"Duh," I said boredly, toying with my gun.

"It wasn't sanctioned, officially at least. But your people knew about it. They thought you were getting dangerous. They felt like you were a threat."

"Who are _they_?" I hissed. He sighed dejectedly.

"I-I don't know," he admitted, nearly sweating by now. "Word was it was an ops group up high in the agency. They wanted you gone and knew the best way to do it was a setup." I nodded grimly. It was confirmation of what I expected. It would have taken more than one person to organize that mess, a group of them made sense.

"Thank you for your assistance," I said with a smile, and he gave me a huge, relived one in return, clearly expecting to live to see another day.

Unfortunately, I was ruthless.

Unfortunately, he knew where I was.

Two shots rang out, finding their marks in his chest. He slumped down the tree, but his eyes flickered and he gave me a haunting kind of grin before he succumbed to death.

"They are coming for you," he whispered. "This won't go on forever. They're going to find you. Soon," he whispered, before his eyes closed. I snorted.

"Yeah, well, tell them to give it their best shot," I told the dead body, and took out the tube of red lipstick in my pocket, bending over the corpse. On his perfectly pressed white shirt, I signed my name.

_Rosemarie. _

* * *

**What do you think of this side to Rose? Should Lissa, Mia and Sydney know about her double life? When should Dimitri make an **

**entrance? Only one way to have your say! Review!**

**Em xx **


	3. Chapter 3: Lunch with Liss

**WOW! I got quite a few reviews, thanks everyone! Keep them coming! I really should be updating my other stories, or (heaven forbid) doing some homework, but when people review my stories that story takes top priority; I figure it's only fair! Do enjoy this chap**

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I scanned the bustling plaza, trying to work out which restaurant Lissa had asked me to come to. Well, what she'd done was more like _instructed_, because to quote, I _"hardly had a social life_" and was _"a twenty-four year old hermit." _The latter was completely not true, I got out on the town quite a bit these days, just probably not in the way my best friend had in mind. As I searched for Liss, I absent-mindedly ran over my schedule for the next week. I had three classes tomorrow and two on Friday, then I was having drinks with the girls on Friday night and was supposed to catch up with Abe Saturday morning. It was half-term, so there was no school on Monday or Tuesday, which gave me a chance to investigate some more leads I had going, plus catch up on the mountain of homework, do some class plans and maybe even fit in a few workouts. My life was busy, and that was the way I liked it. It gave me more time to think about the future, and less time to think about the past…

"Rose!" Lissa exclaimed, dashing up and giving me a quick squeeze. As usual she looked perfect, her jade-green eyes offset by white skinny jeans and an artfully faded baby blue blouse. Her fairy-queen blonde hair was loose, and hung dead straight down her back, clipped loosely back with a gold and jade butterfly pin.

"Come on, you look like you need a drink," she told me, steering me towards the patio of a stylish little diner and pressing a glass of champagne into my hand. I grinned.

"Alcohol in-between classes? What a shining example I am," I drawled, downing the stupidly small flute in a matter of seconds. Lissa ordered smoked salmon and avocado whilst I took some kind of Thai beef salad. I didn't care much for the salad, it was the meat I was after, but I saw Lissa glare at me disapprovingly as I looked at the steak and chips, and knew she'd start lecturing me if I didn't order something at least partially healthy. We talked pretty much non-stop about everything and drank a bottle of wine between us as we caught up on each other's lives.

Lissa was working three days a week as a counselor in a children's hospital, complimenting her psychology background and also her kind, compassionate nature. She didn't need to work; the Dragomir family was far beyond wealthy, but Lissa, being Lissa, wanted to give back as much as she could, something I loved about her. She spent another day lecturing at a nearby university in behavioral psychology, and apart from that, she busied herself being the perfect social butterfly. I knew all of this because a) she'd told me, of course, but also b) because I had her schedule memorized, in case I was ever to encounter her at a…well, let's say, inopportune moment.

I hated the fact that I had to hide so much of who I was from her and the other girls, but I was frightened. I knew what I was doing was bad, but I also knew it was justified. I was scared of what she'd say if she knew about my dark past, and who I became once nobody was watching. I hated the darkness, the bitterness within myself, but it was a part of who I was, and it would disappear once I got my answers.

"So we're going to Fibonaci's on Friday night," Lissa informed me. I groaned.

"_That_ place? It's so…"I struggled to find the word.

"Upbeat? Wild? Crazy?" Lissa suggested, a smile tugging at her lips. "Everything you are, Rose." She rolled her eyes. "Well, everything you are once you've had a couple drinks and you're away from that snobby Academy and its brats." I laughed along with her, she was most definitely right. Teaching at the academy had its perks, namely the money and prestige of teaching there, but it meant having to deal with bratty children and even brattier parents and colleagues. I shook my head.

"Fine, I'll be there."

"Darn straight you will," she told me. I snickered. Lissa was the only person over the age of ten years old that said the word "darn", and I adored her for it. She was my opposite, and that was why we had become the best of friends.

"Hey, did you hear about the murder in Central Park last night?" She asked me, wide-eyed. My stomach knotted as I fought to maintain a straight face and shook my head. _Nope. Not a clue._

"Gunshot. Not very surprising in New York, but the killer keeps leaving a kind of calling card." I arched an eyebrow.

"Oh?" Lissa nodded eagerly.

"Yep. They sign their name Rosemarie." I nodded my head.

"Well, you're into psychology. What do you make of it?" She frowned thoughtfully.

"The killer's smart, and wants to make a statement. The police said they are getting more daring, and that there's some kind of pattern to the kills, it's always government people, so they've clearly got some kind of agenda. Maybe it's somebody in the government, getting back on the people who turned on them?" She suggested, and I felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured down my back.

Lissa had hit the nail right on its head. The person she'd described was me. Fear replaced the cold as I realized how careful I had to be. Sooner or later they'd realize I could be in on it, if they had half a brain they'd probably make the connection between the old Agent Rose Hathaway and Rosemarie. And then it would only become a matter of time before they came a-knocking at my door. I had to finish this, and quickly. I had to find out who the person that betrayed me was, and why they had done so. I had to get my revenge on them, and on the Director of the CIA, the woman who had stabbed me in the back, before they could get to me.

"Liss, I should get going," I told her, gathering my things. "I've got another class to substitute for, and so much work to do." She clucked.

"Aw, poor thing. See you Friday!" She chirped, and gave me a hasty peck on the cheek. I left smiling, but with a dark cloud hanging over my head. Soon as I was round the corner, I dug around in my handbag for my other phone, and dialed a number.

"It's me," I said brusquely. "I need you to find me that lead, and fast," I informed the listener, then snapped the phone shut and walked back towards my other life.

* * *

**So I'm thinking Dimitri might make an entrance in the next chapter or two...if I get enough reviews! I'm not sure if Rose's double life is established enough for him to come in? Anyway I hoped you liked it, remember to leave me some love!**

**Em xx**


	4. Chapter 4: Voices, plots & a Russian God

**Hi! Sorry for a slow UD, I've been away recently. Here's the next chap, enjoy! A Rose/Dimitri encounter coming sooooon!**

I groaned, holding my throbbing head in my hands, looking away from the paperwork. Going out with the girls had been a bad idea. Apparently, they'd all had crazy weeks as well, and bat shit insane didn't half cover how hard we'd gone last night. Steeling myself, I looked up, fumbling for my sunglasses; my apartment was horribly, cheerfully sunny.

I glanced at the clock-quarter past one in the afternoon. I was waiting on a call from my informant, and had in the meantime started marking some papers for school. Halfway through I'd got bored and pulled out my notes, the big mind map I kept as I tried to untangle the convoluted web that had been my life.

The words swum around in my head. _I nearly discovered something. _I had been told by someone-who was now, of course, dead-that I'd been "too close for comfort." I had been chasing down a man by the name of Robert Doruru, who apparently had links to the mafia and was involved in a major drug circle. Had there been something else Robert was doing, something I would have discovered? Something somebody in the CIA didn't want me to discover? _A mole in the CIA. Agent Rose Hathaway called in to bust Doruru, a vendetta against her. _And that was it. I'd been set up, easy as pie. I'd been so focused on smashing Doruru that I hadn't even considered the possibility that I was being set up.

"Gah!" I groaned, slamming my head back down on the desk. Suddenly my ears perked up as my ringtone went off- the one I'd set for anything to do with my old, dark life.

"Hathaway," I answered out of habit.

"It's me," the voice said curtly, and I straightened my back. "I got that lead."

"About time," I said abruptly, tapping my pen on the desk. The voice chuckled.

"Don't worry, it's worth your wait." I rolled my eyes. The speaker was close to me, almost like a brother, and knew how impatient I was. We had attended the academy together, and he had left about a year before I'd gone spectacularly down in flames. He still had some old contacts and worked for the defense force, so he was worth his weight in gold. Not to mention the fact that, though I'd never admit it, I loved him dearly though we more often than not could piss the shit out of each other. **(AN: Can you guess who the voice is?)** He wasn't doing this purely out of the good of his saint like heart, though-although to be fair he wanted this bastard as badly as I did, considering how bad it had screwed up my life. He had revenge of his own to exact-he had reason to believe his family had been killed by the same mysterious hand that had set me up. Revenge was a forte we shared and excelled at.

"Shoot," I deadpanned. The voice chuckled.

"Ironic, considering what I had to do to get this information." I winced. Crap. More bloodshed. Oh well. What was it the French said? _Ce la vie?_

"Just tell me," I sighed. This man was the only one who could push my buttons and have any hope of living to tell the tale.

"I got word from somebody involved in the old drug ring. A direct contact, not secondhand. This is a good one, Rose," the voice said, sounding excited.

"What?" I snapped.

"Apparently, Robert Doruru isn't dead."

"What?" I spluttered, and had a bit of a coughing fit. _No. Not possible. I watched him die. The building exploded, and they got to bust my ass for losing him, among other things. _

"I know. Apparently he's resurfaced under a different name with a few old cronies, and can you guess where?"

"Russia," I sighed.

"Precisely."

"So I should hunt him down?" I asked, frowning.

"If it was me, I'd keep heavy tabs on him. Let him make his own mistakes." I nodded my agreement.

"That way he might lead you to the others. There's a chance he was in on it," the voice continued.

"Excellent," I said crisply. "I'll keep a few tabs on him, and you do the same."

"Alright," he agreed. "And Rose?" He said, sounding hesitant. "You take care, hear me? Rosemarie is starting to attract some pretty keen attention around my place."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," I drawled. "I'll believe that one when I see it."

"It would do you good to take my work on this one," he told me, his tone exasperated.

"Whatever. Get back to work. Talk to you later this week."

"Bye, Rose."

"Bye"-I hesitated, and then smiled a tiny bit. He hated me using his name in this arrangement, so I did gleefully at least once every time we spoke.

"Bye…Christian."

**AN: OOH! So that's who the voice is! Just a little twist I thought up for y'all, and it makes room for a sideline Christian/Lissa story if need be. But enough of that! It's time for the man himself…Dimitri!**

I looked disbelievingly at Alberta and Mikahil, who both stared back rather matter-of-factly.

"A murder case?" I said incredulously. "Are you serious? What am I, five years old?" Alberta shrugged.

"We have reason to believe that you'll be useful, Belikov." I bristled. Why did all of these Americans take such great delight in using my last name? I had a first name, why didn't they use it? Perhaps because they all had such boring surnames. Like Smith and Brown.

"The Rosemarie case is becoming notorious. The New York police are already run off their feet, because quite frankly, it's New York."

"So get them to send in some help," I said, shrugging. Alberta smiled smally.

"That's exactly where you come in." I rolled my eyes. How did I not see that curveball coming? Talk about shooting myself in the foot.

"This is ridiculous. I'm an agent, not a detective," I argued. Mikhail and Alberta exchanged resigned glances and gestured me into the other office.

"Listen, Dimitri," Alberta said quietly. _Wow. A first name? Shit just got real_. "These murders aren't random. This person, or people, who are doing the killings, they're targeting-"

"Agents, past and present, I know," I said impatiently.

"More than that. There's a high-level plot within the agencies of the world, and the people being killed are members of said plan.

"What's the plan?" I asked reasonably. Mikhail pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If this leaks, Belikov, I'll have your balls," he told me. _Lovely._ "It's a plan to stop smaller countries from getting nuclear weapons. Withholding the technology, thus ensuring nothing…rash can be done. Keeping peace, if you like."

"The CIA thinks that this Rosemarie is working for one of these smaller countries, or working with some other organization to make it all fair."

"What if it's one of us?" I said, reasonably enough. "Somebody who doesn't agree with what's happening, and is trying to stop it?"

"It's possible," Alberta agreed. "Mikhail and I are running that side of the op."

"Rosemarie could be coincidence," I stated. Alberta rolled her eyes.

"I don't subscribe to that bullshit, and neither do you."

"Fine," I said, deciding that relenting and accepting the assignment would be better than having Alberta force me into it. "Who else will be working with me?"

"You'll have Mason Ashford and Eddie Castile," Alberta told me. I nodded. I liked Mason and Eddie-they were slightly younger than me, but committed and talented agents. I was confident that having them on side would help.

"So what are we talking?" I asked. "A kill mission?" Mikhail shook his head.

"No. Under no circumstances are you to use deadly force if Rosemarie is found. We have been ordered to ascertain the capture before any such decisions are made. If Rosemarie is one person, not a group of individuals, it is likely that they have a lot of knowledge regarding the plot."

"I understand," I said, rising from my chair. "I'll get Mason and Eddie and we'll be in New York by the morning."

"Oh no," Mikhail said with a small smile. "They've been waiting for you on the jet for twenty minutes." He hesitated, and then outstretched a hand.

"Good luck, Dimitri," he said formally. "If I'm right, which I always am, then you're going to need it."

**Ooh! And so the plot thickens :) Perhaps Rose has got herself in a little bit too deep? I PROMISE a Rose/Dimitri meeting very soon, **

**next chapter! Please tell me what you think, I thrive on feedback! Also, apologies if Dimitri seemed OOC. I'm not used to writing his **

**POV. REVIEW!**

**Em xx**


	5. Chapter 5: Call Me, Maybe?

**Late update, I know. I've had schools start up again this week and am now a Beta for CheekyLittleVampire-if you hadn't already, **

**check out her story Temptations! It's pretty awesome. Anyhoo, to this story! Hopefully you find it worth your while :D I did enjoy **

**writing this chap...**

* * *

"Hey!" I hollered, stepping in to the hectic classroom. _Who knew girls could be so rowdy?_ "Hey, shut up, all of you!" I yelled, crossing to the desk and dumping my own folder of books down. Thankfully the girls subsided into giggly silence, straightening in their seats. I was quite well known around the school, infamous was the word most often used. Maybe because I was closer to their age, not like the old stuffy classical teachers who all had their walking sticks firmly and permanently shoved up their ass. Or maybe just because I was, to put it plainly, one badass motherfucker of an awesome teacher.

But I digress.

Surveying the class, all of whom seemed to be fast falling asleep, I made one of my famous snap for-better-or-much-worse decisions.

"Right, girls," I announced. "It's Friday afternoon, we're all buggered and there's two hours to go. I'm giving you all a very special in-class assignment." Well, that perked them up. Smiling, I continued.

"You will have the next hour and a half to choreograph a three and a half to four minute dance routine." Squeals and applause broke out in the room, they loved doing this.

"But listen! You will all work together on one group." A few groans broke out. "This is to encourage your teamwork skills. Make sure everyone is heard. Every single person must contribute at least one idea."

"What genre, Miss?" Piped up Izabel, a curly red-head girl who sat in the front row. I grinned.

"Izzy, it's Rose. And that's the fun part. I want you to integrate everything you've been learning. The choreography must have a classical ballet foundation, but feel free to integrate some more modern moves and gymnastics into this. I want you to have fun, girls, but do it well. And also"-I grinned at them-"we can hang the stuffy old music for today. Choose whatever you want." I crossed and slammed the lid shut on the baby grand piano in the corner, making a comical noise as the keys vibrated. Immediately the room was abuzz with talk.

'Go kick Mr. Fitzgerald's class out of the big studio," I called. They all looked at me in shock. "They've only got a spare in there anyway," I defended myself, and cheerfully, they all left, leaving me some very much well-deserved peace and quiet. For the first half an hour I heard screaming and loud thumps coming from the adjacent studio. I figured that after they had thrown the other class out, they were now doing what I liked to call "creative brainstorming." And, as the responsible teacher that I was, I figured I'd leave it to them to work out their own issues.

**(An: Who wants a teacher like Rose? I sure do :) )**

That hour past way, way too fast for my liking. I woke up to banging on the door and noticed it was three o'clock-only twenty minutes left. They were all peering in the windows- I had barricaded the door with an upside down chair and a few bookcases-making it subtly clear I did not wish to be involved in their catty little disputes, or deal with the questions that they could work out for themselves. Resignedly I un-blocked the door and let them in. They filed in smiling, seeming jumpy and excited.

"Miss Rose, go sit at the back," a bright eyed, pretty girl called Fi informed me, a twinkle in her green eyes. Wow, I should do this more often, I thought to myself. _They're occupied, I get to sleep and I get paid for it. Score. _Whilst I doubted very much this adhered to school policy, it most certainly beat teaching on the bar for two hours. So I dutifully say at the back of the classroom whilst they took their positions and set up what I assumed were speakers. Cassie, my favorite student, glanced up from her laptop.

"Rose-she was the only one who called me that-"what's that proxy for YouTube again?" She asked mischief in every inch of her short, athletic build. "Race-something?"

"Raceway, Cass," I called back. "Jeez, get it right," I scolded her, and she tossed her unruly head. A second later the speakers crackled into life and the room was silent. I looked at their opening positions in interest. They were randomly scattered across the room-some in groups of two or three, some on their own. Cassie danced gracefully to her own position-front and center, a simple fourth position with her hands confidently on her hips. A very, very familiar violin raft started as the back row rose into motion.

_I threw a wish in the well_

_Don't ask me, I'll never tell_

_I looked at you as it fell_

_And now you're in my way_

I froze, inwardly groaning in my head. Stupid me. I should have specified any song in the whole wide world, other than _"Call Me Maybe."_ `The girls knew I hated it, and thinking about it, it really didn't surprise me that they'd chosen it for that exact reason. Many of them were struggling to keep the smiles from their faces already. But, evil song choice aside, their routine was mesmerizing.

They'd used all of their talent-the gracefulness of classic, the daringness of the many gymnasts and the fast-paced nature of modern that gave them such stamina to create a routine of real dance merit. It was amazingly different and fresh, using the energy and positivity of the song to all its potential. Girls were spinning, doing flips, on point all at the same time and perfectly choreographed. I lost myself in the beauty of their routine-wonderfully complicated, but simple enough not to look convoluted.

Three minutes later as the last _"so call me, maybe"_ echoed through the studio, I stood up in amazement, looking at my class. Four groups of three in the back row had formed a pyramid, the girls on top in a perfect pirouettes. Three pairs in the second row faced inwards in an arabesque. Their hands that weren't pointing towards each other were held in a mock telephone position by their sides. And two girls, Cassie and Fi, stood in the middle, facing me. They stood along, balanced on one leg. Their other legs were parallel with their head, and they'd used one hand to hold it close to their body, placing their hand to their ear like a phone. All were beaming proudly. Eventually, I found my voice.

"Wow, girls. Just…Wow. Give yourselves a round of applause." I congratulated each of them individually, and they left for the day with smiles on their faces. I left with an equally big one, but also unfortunately carrying the catchy poppy tune firmly in my head. Damnit. I had only just managed to get it out of there from last Friday night, when Mia, Sydney, Lissa and I sang an equally passionate but nowhere near as eloquent version at 1am in the morning. _Awesome teacher, check, awesome role model, not. _

I left school about four and arrived home by quarter past, flopping on my couch for a half-hour or so. I texted Lissa and agreed to meet up with her and the gang for a drink-singular-at our favorite Mexican restaurant at seven-thirty. As the final screen of the tv show played and the words "_xoxo Gossip Girl"_ showed up, I managed-just- to pull myself away. _Note to self: Do not become addicted to a teenage girl's TV show._ It had been bad enough last month with _Pretty Little Liars_. What I needed now was discipline and focus-dramatized sitcoms were so _not_ going to help me out.

And when I needed focus, I could only do one thing-run. Quickly I threw on a pink sports bra, a white t-shirt and a pair of black leggings, grabbing my iPod and setting my "one hour" playlist to blast. One hour meant from my apartment to Central Park, three laps, then cool down with the walk back. It was five o'clock now, he sun was just beginning to disappear and I smiled, thinking of how Lissa would lecture me about "_dangerous things on the street and night." _Unfortunately, what she didn't know was that _I_ was the most dangerous thing on these streets at night. But what she didn't know couldn't hurt her…

Eventually I realized that my playlist had stopped-I glanced down, breaking my gaze on dead ahead, and realized I had over-run by twenty minutes. It felt good though-I needed to make more time to run, I was only managing it about three times a week nowadays. I slowed to a steady walk immediately, making my way back towards my apartment. I stopped briefly at the fountain at the entrance to the park to splash my face in it. _The cool water felt as if it had been sent straight from heaven. I need to find Doruru_, I thought to myself. _Please, please, let me find him_. I chuckled to myself as I re-tied my ponytail, stepping away from the fountain.

_I threw a wish in the well,_

_Don't ask me I'll never tell_

Shaking my head, I walked on, and nearly walked smack bang into a very solid figure. Startled from my thoughts I looked up, taking a step backwards. I fought to keep my jaw from dropping. The object I had nearly walked into wasn't an object, it was a man…A very, _very_ good looking man, dark haired with a tanned complexion and deep chocolate eyes. He was the kind of handsome that snatched your breath clean away from you. I noticed he was tall, much taller than me, 6'5 at the least, and though lean, very muscular. I shivered.

_I looked at you as it fell_

He appraised me with those deep, sexy and a smile curved on his sinfully amazing mouth.

"I'm sorry. My fault." Ohmigod. He had an accent. Was it…Russian? God, that was so…_hot_. Only word for him. Hot. I shook my head, and laughed, more than a little breathlessly.

"No, that was me, sorry." I blushed at his gaze, so direct, so powerful, and went to sidestep, trying to break the magnetic hold he had on me. At the same time, he sidestepped-the same way, and again, _and again. _

_And now you're in my way. _I stopped and shook my head.

"Wow. That's awkward", I stated, drawing a deep kind of chuckle from him. One I liked. A lot.

"On the contrary." He held out his hand. "Dimitri, he offered". God, even his name is amazing, I thought to myself.

"Rose," I said, smiling, feeling like a teenage girl. I couldn't help take in his features again and again-for this brief moment, this bowl of eye candy was _mine. _

_I'd trade my soul for a wish_

_Pennies and dimes for a kiss_

From those lips, fuck yes, I thought wryly. We shook hands and a tingle of electricity shot straight through my body, undeniable and almost scarily powerful.

_I wasn't looking for this, _

_But now you're in my way_

There was no way I could leave now. He had a strong pull over me, he fascinated me. I wanted to know more about him. The look in his eyes wouldn't let me leave, and I got the funny feeling that he didn't want me to.

_Your stare was holding,_

_Ripped jeans, skin was showing_

For the first time I took in what he was wearing. A simple navy-blue t-shirt that subtly hugged his body in all the right places, dark denim jeans with-_fuck_-a rip that was definitely not designer.

_Hot night, wind was blowing_

_Where you think you're going, baby? _

"So…Hey," I said, summoning my best and brightest smile. He met my eyes amusedly.

"Hey?"

"Best I can do," I defended myself. "You kinda just popped up on me there, Comrade." He arched an eyebrow, making him-if possible more gorgeous.

Comrade?" He quizzed. I shrugged.

"You're Russian. It suits you." He shook his head.

"I apologize for popping up on you, as you say. May I walk you home?"

"Sure," I agreed happily. Why, I had no idea. The fifteen minute walk to my building was full of talk. I learned he was four years older than me, had been in New York for six months working as a consultant in a law firm. He was Russian, I had that right, was a third-dan blackbet and had a morbid-in my opinion, clinically serious-obsession with the wild west. We halted outside my apartment.

"It was great to meet you, Roza," he told me, and my backbone tingled from the look in his eyes. _Roza? Where did that come from? _Eh, Fuck it, I decided.

"You too," I countered, and nodding, he turned and walked down the street. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. _See? It had been nothing. Just a very super hot stranger being nice._ I opened the door to the building and was waiting for an elevator when I heard a banging on the door. I turned-to my surprise, it was him again.

"Dimitri?" I asked curiously, studying the strange expression on his face. It seemed like he'd ran-fast-back down my street. He shook his head.

"Look Rose, this is crazy, but…Could I have your number?" He smiled disarmingly. "Maybe we could have coffee some time."

"Um, sure," I said, my heart pounding so loud I feared it might rip out of my chest.

_But here's my number_

I put my number in his phone and vice versa, then he smiled at me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

T"hank you. We ought to meet up soon."

"I'd love that," I said sincerely. "Really." My words hung in the air and there was a pause before he met my eyes and a small smile played on his lips.

"Alright. Bye, Roza," he said quietly, then strode out of the building.

_So call me, maybe?_

* * *

**WOW! Long chap, kinda a songfic. What did you think? Too cheesy? Good? Let me know! **

**Em xx**


	6. Chapter 6: The Flying Turk

**To all the re/viewers and followers, thank you so very much! Please continue to review and read :) Enjoy this chapter...**

* * *

I sat in my crummy little apartment studying the meticulous notes me, Christian and another faceless informant had put together over the last week or so. My target was a woman this time, middle-aged, English. She had been helping Douru, she had been a mole inside our system and had probably tipped him off I'd been coming for him. So needless to say I was-literally- _dying_ to talk to her. My coat drawn tightly around me, I stalked the streets of the city until I came to her apartment building where I waited in an adjoining alleyway. I heard her footsteps come down the building steps and she came around the corner, not seeing me. She opened the lid of a garbage can, threw her trash in, and slammed it shut. I smiled a vicious, predatory smile. Touche. That was exactly what I was doing right now. Taking out the trash. As she dusted her hands off on her immaculate work skirt, I stepped out of the shadows.

"Don't move an inch, I told her, my voice silky. Or I'll fill your chest with lead." She froze where she was, and quickly I found the weapon concealed in her waistband, I tossed it in the trash can.

"Rose Hathaway, she stated. So the rumor is true." Her voice was calm and collected, the steely resolve she was known for still in place.

"Yes," I agreed. "So I suggest that if you don't want to end up like your co-workers, you start singing about who Douru was working for." She shook her head.

"I may be a mole, but I'm not a double-traitor," she said calmly. "I can't tell you that, Rose."

"No?" I said coldly. "Well, I'm sure I can convince you." I flicked the safety of my gun off and twirled the weapon under her nose.

"How 'bout now?" I asked, rather obnoxiously. She shook her head.

"Even if I did tell you, Rose, you will kill me anyways."

"Maybe, I agreed. But if you don't and you die for nothing, I'll come after your family." She smiled faintly.

"You may be a killer, Rose, but you aren't a monster. In fact, you have the support of many in the CIA."

"Well, doesn't that warm the cockles of my pitch-black heart," I drawled.

"Douru was in on it, she breathed. _Of course he was._ "But I'm not going to tell you who he was working for, or why." I gritted my teeth. God, this woman was getting on my nerves. And on the nerves of an unstable, vengeful, armed killer was not such a great place to be, although she didn't seem to understand this.

"But I will tell you this, she said calmly. They are coming for you, Rosemarie. They haven't yet made the link between Rose Hathaway and Rosemarie-word had it you were dead-but when they do, there will be no place in the world able to hide you. You've messed with something way out of your zone, agent," she told me, smiling.

"Funny, I said coldly. I was just about to say the same thing to you." I shot her once in the temple, the muffler allowing the shot to only make a small popping noise akin to a cork popping from a bottle. She fell, a smile still plastered to her face. With care, I signed my name, leaving my usual calling card. Then, I walked calmly out of the alley, down the street, and hailed a cab.

_Rest in peace, bitch, _I thought with grim good humor.

* * *

The day after that was Monday, and whilst waiting for a call from an informant, I caught myself thinking about Dimitri. Neither of us had called the other, although he had sent me a text on Friday night saying that it was lovely to meet me and he hoped we could catch up sometime next week. My phone buzzed and I picked up on the first ring.

"Rose, it's me," Christian's voice said curtly.

"Hey," I said, surprised. I hadn't been expecting a call from him, but I was already intrigued. I could tell that this wasn't a social call.

"I just got intel conformation Douru's alive. He was seen a day ago in Moscow at the train station."

"Who was he with?" I asked, my voice rising in excitement.

"He was alone, apparently. I'm still keeping tabs." I sighed heavily

"Okay. Let me know when you hear any more."

"You know it," he deadpanned, and hung up. I'd just reached for my coffee- black, no milk, three sugars-when my phone rang again. My heart lurched when I saw the caller ID. _Dimitri calling_. Quickly I exhaled, steadied myself, and picked up.

"Hey," I said, my smile almost tangible in my voice.

"Is this the beautiful Rose?" Said a deep Russian accent. I giggled.

"For you, baby, I can be," I drawled. _Wow._ Where the hell had that come from? I mean I was always flirty, but that might have been a bit too much. But he laughed.

"Good enough for me. Are you free for lunch? Work sucks." I laughed a little.

"As a matter of fact, all my other hot Russian dates have cancelled, so it looks like you're up, buddy." He made that "_badadadadada_!" noise that happens right before a baseball player steps up to the plate, instantly drawing a laugh from me.

"Where would you like to eat?"" He asked. I frowned.

As long as it's not borscht, I'm good." He chuckled.

"Duly noted."

"There's a nice Turkish restaurant downtown," I offered. "It's called the Flying Turk."

"Sounds good, he agreed. I'll meet you there, say fifteen minutes?" I grinned.

"I'm on my way." We said our goodbyes and hung up, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. Awesome food and a hot date? How much better could this day get?

* * *

I found out soon that it could get a lot better. And I mean a _lot._ Especially when Dimitri showed up on a freaking _motorbike_, shaking his dark messy hair out of a helmet in a way that made me and every female in the restaurant queasy. It was a nice lunch, we sat out on the back deck for at least an hour and a half. Well, actually, it was rather more than nice. We talked easily again, laughing, sharing jokes and childhood stories over impeccable Turkish food. He was a sincere, warm person which I liked a lot-maybe even a little too much.

"I realized I never learned your last name," he told me smiling as we walked out of the restaurant and down the street. I hesitated for a fraction of a second, and immediately felt guilty. I don't know why I did it, but I gave him my father's last name, not mine.

"Mazur, I replied. Rose Mazur. And yours?"

"Turgenev," he replied, and grandly, I turned to him, offering him my hand. He bowed equally grandly, took my hand and pressed it to his lips. I giggled, but kept a solemn face and swept him the best curtsey I could manage in jeans and a shirt. A few people on the street looked at us warily or stopped and paused, making us laugh even harder. I found it so easy to be around him, it was so easy to be myself-or rather, a blend of both my old and new selves. Slowly we walked back to my car, and I made him promise-a little warily-to teach me to ride a motorbike.

"This was great, Rose," he told me, and suddenly, his hand had found mine. For a few brief seconds I was incapable of speaking.

"Yeah, who knows, you might get a second chance," I teased, and he grinned.

"I sincerely hope so. He studied me. Would you be offended if I had the audacity to ask you to dinner tomorrow night?"

"Hmmn, I said, pretending to consider it. "Nope, not offended." He smiled.

"Excellent. May I pick you up, say seven-thirty?" I nodded brightly and his brow softened, leaning in to place a firm kiss on my cheek-I couldn't help but be a little disappointed that it wasn't more, but the smell of his aftershave and warm skin was enough to give me heart palipitations.

"See you soon," he promised.

"Yeah, I managed, still in shock from the kiss. "Soon." With a wave, I watched him kickstart his bike and disappear down the road.

* * *

**DPOV:**

After I left Rose, my cellphone blipped-it was Mason. I turned into the little apartment we were renting, entering quietly.

"Goddamnit, Belikov, Mason's exasperated voice said on voicemail. "Pick up your freaking phone once in a while."

"You called?" I drawled, walking around the corner. Mason jumped half a foot in the air, making me chuckle whilst he scowled.

"Jumpy, are we?"

"Yeah yeah, you're hilarious." I made him a bow and he threw-I mean literally-a beer at me.

"I interviewed a couple park wardens this morning", he informed me. "Said they didn't see or hear anything." Typical. Nothing happened in new York unless you had plenty of the green ones.

"I think whoever it is, they're local to the central park area," I said. "Within maybe a three-mile radius. They know it well, they know the areas the night wardens patrol the most."

"Do you think it is a female?" Mason asked. I frowned.

"Yes, probably. Unless Rosemarie is a codename for something, but no self-respecting male assassin would go around with a name like that." We sat down on our dumpy little leather couch and drew up a rough profile of 'Rosemarie.' We decided she was somewhere between the age of twenty-five and forty, of average height and weight, and well above average intelligence to commit such meticulous plans.

It was also likely she came from a higher-income background, was charismatic and physically attractive. My thoughts were suddenly drawn to Rose, the brunette beauty I had met a few days ago, and I smiled just thinking about her. Though we had spent only a little time in eachother's company, she was a person with the ability to catch and hold your attention-smart, funny, interesting-and it really didn't hurt that she was pretty much a living goddess. A cold feeling worked its way up my back. She was central to Central Park. This son of a bitch of a cold-blooded killer walked the same streets as she did, maybe even sleeping within a few miles of her. I shook that thought off. It was useless to worry about Rose. There was a pattern to these kills, they were not random, and Rose had absolutely nothing to do with any of it. I shifted a little. _But then why didn't you give her your real last name_? I thought to myself. I had given her the last name of my favorite, if but a little obscure, writer. It had been a rash, somewhat spur of the moment idea that I couldn't justify.

"Yo, Earth to Belikov, Mason drawled. Dude, are you even on this planet?" I shook myself out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, just thinking", I muttered.

"Hey, who's Rose Mazur?" Mason asked, scrolling through my phone. "'Cause she says "thanks for a great time, see you soon." He looked at me in disgust. "You weren't out casing the Park at all, were you? You were meeting some girl. Asshole!"

"She isn't some girl," I defended myself. "She's wonderful. I met her on Friday night." Mason snorted, but then his face fell.

"Rose, huh? I knew a Rose once. Awesome girl, too." His eyes saddened, and I changed the subject.

"What about Eddie? What did he do?" Mason shrugged.

"He went out to take a call about half an hour ago. Hopefully something ate him." Just that moment, Eddie crashed through the front door looking like a group of bloodhounds were on his tail. His eyes were wide and he had a phone in his hand.

"There's been another murder, he managed after a minute. "Corner of Knightswood and Eighth. Female, fairly senior. Shot in the head, they think a few days ago."

"Why are we only finding out about this now?" I snapped. Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Because the dumbass paramedics wiped Rosemarie's calling card off."

"Wankers," Mason muttered.

"Anyways, there's been a big break. And I mean freaking big."

"What?" Mason and I said in sync. He grinned triumphantly.

"This was one helluva smart victim. She knew she was going to be a target for Rosemarie, so she got one step ahead of her."

"And?" I said impatently. He smiled grimly.

"And... she had a voice recorder in her pocket."

* * *

**UH OH! Rose might just be in huge trouble….So…Robert really is alive, he was/is working for somebody, our very hot agent is all over Rose, who is onto Rosemarie.**

**Methinks the proverbial is going to hit the fan…Soon! Chapters will start to really speed up now. I know how it's going to end now, there will be plenty of drama!**

**Em xx**


	7. Chapter 7: The Hunter & The Hunted

**Thanks to all the reviewers, sorry this chap wasn't very quick…Enjoy!**

* * *

"I'll see you tomorrow for lunch," I promised Mia and Lissa, who'd insisted on dropping me home after one of our shopping ventures. Waiting for the elevator weighed down with bags I kicked off my high heels-lord known what possessed me to wear them today-and put them in my mouth, earning myself a few strange looks on the way up to my floor. Once inside my apartment I sighed, plunking my bags down and switching on the TV. The news came on, and a handsome newsreader wearing far too much makeup was standing concernedly in an alleyway. My stomach dropped.

I knew that alleyway. It was the same one I'd visited on Sunday night when I'd killed the CIA woman. Instinctively, I leaned towards the miniature orange man on my tv set.

"Rumors are circulating that the victim, whose identity has been kept private, had in her possession a voice recorder at the time of the attack, which may contain incriminating evidence." I sat bolt upright in terror. Oh shit. Oh shit. This was not good. I made myself sit still for a minute or two and just think. My phone rang.

"Hello?" I snapped. It was Christian.

"How could you be so fucking stupid?" He yelled at me, and I winced. "She was smart, of course she was going to try and get you!"

"I don't need you to yell at me, I've got that covered myself," I hissed. "Be useful and tell me what to do." He sighed.

"Use an informant. But this time, cover your tracks." With that he hung up, and quickly I dialed another number.

"Stan," I said curtly. "I need a favor." The man listened intently for a few minutes before swearing.

_"Fuck_. You do know how-"

"Fucking stupid I am, yep, I said boredly. But unless you want them to bust your ass too, I need your help."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to get your hands on that file and corrupt the shit out of it." He sighed.

"I haven't got access to that kind of stuff, but I know a guy who does, and for a couple thou, won't ask any questions. "

"I'll give him five to make sure that is one screwed-up file," I promised.

"Consider it done," he told me, and I ended the call.

* * *

Quickly I stood, adrenaline pumping in my veins. This was no time to relax. I had work to do. I crossed to the guest bedroom toilet, where in a locked cupboard and wardrobe I kept my essential things. I used them to change what I looked like when I needed to, and this was one of those times. I went to the wardrobe first and picked out of an ensemble of outfits one I thought was sufficient. I had labeled it "Grungy hipster/ blogger", and it consisted of baggy denim jeans, a white long sleeved shirt and an orange one with a black peace sign on the front, along with a pair or beaten up black and white converse. I added bracelets, earrings and a messenger bag, then started on my face. I made my normally-olive skin a chalkier white, my brown eyes a kind of muddy green/hazel. I tied my long, dark hair up and put on a long mousy blonde wig on, complete with an old, stained baseball cap.

Looking carefully in the mirror, I was pleased that I looked absolutely nothing like myself. As a final touch I grabbed a notepad and pencil, weighing my messenger bag down with books so it didn't look empty, and placing some headphones-with no music on-in my ears. It took me about ten minutes to get there, after finally convincing a rather apprehensive cabbie to take me to an address on block away. Sure enough, there was media and police aplenty. Almost nostalgically I remembered the days when I would have been one of those agents, pushing and shoving and shouting my way through the media scrum. The hunter becomes the hunted, I guess. Or maybe the other way around, depending on how you saw things.

Suddenly, something else caught my eye and I turned, convinced I had seen it. I could have sworn for a second that I'd seen…Dimitri, disappearing inside the house. But it couldn't possibly have been. Dimitri was a lawyer…unless he was working this case? No, he would have mentioned it…It couldn't have been him, or at least I hoped it wasn't. Having him entangled or implicated in this mess could have dire consequences.

Suddenly I saw something very familiar-a brief flash of red hair and a familiar gangly frame. No. Couldn't be. I squinted, pushing through some of the crowd to get a better look, ignoring some of the rude abuse thrown my way. My heart sank when I realized who it was, and who was standing next to him.

Mason Ashford, my former best friend, was standing next to Eddie Castile, also my former best friend. They were here in New York City. And they were looking for _me._

Eddie, Mason, Christian and I all attended the same Academy, St. Vladimirs. We had been the best of friends, always watching each other's' backs, doing the stupid and hilarious things that best friends do. Mason and I had even dated for a while-but we broke it off in senior year when we decided we were better as friends. After graduating with honors we mostly worked the same missions, but even on the rare occasions when we were separated for long periods of time we stayed close.

Eddie and I had shared a flat, Christian and Mason had lived across the hall. I missed those days so badly that it ached. Upon seeing them, looking older and wiser and better-looking than ever, I simply wanted to be Rose Hathaway, and run into their arms once again.

But I couldn't. I was Rosemarie now, a killer who had earned a reputation for being ruthless, for getting rid of anyone who posed a risk or stood in my way. A cold thought crossed my heart. I could kill them, or have them killed. I could tail them, sneak up and shoot them myself with such ease and quietness. Or I could make a call, say a few names, transfer some money, and it would be done so, so easily, with no fuss whatsoever. My throat tightened. It would be the sensible thing to do. They were a link that could connect Rose Hathaway to Rosemarie, eventually to Rose Mazur, and if I was really smart, I'd cut that link. I gritted my teeth. But I wasn't. I was too sentimental, too much involved with this. I couldn't do it.

I would finish what I had started, get my answers and then, with Abe's help, disappear quietly. Nobody would ever have to know I existed. Leaving Lissa, Mia, Sydney and Dimitri would be so, so difficult, but maybe there was a way I could keep them in my lives somehow. It would break my heart to leave them, but I couldn't let them be incriminated if the CIA did eventually catch up with me. But I had been careful to cover my tracks, not to leave clues. I had heard myself described as the perfect killer, and I was. I had started something, and I'd sure as hell be finishing it. Only, I had a small feeling deep down inside that it wouldn't be that simple.

* * *

**DPOV**

Eddie whooped and fist-bumped Mason as the voice recorder, seeming pretty much untouched, was put in a plastic evidence bag.

"Take that, you motherfucker," Mason crowed, pointing to the bag. The officer holding it glared, beginning a lecture, but Mason advised him where to go, and he did.

"I think we just caught ourselves a Rosemarie," Mason said smugly. I grinned, their enthusiasm was infectious.

"You may be right. Come on, drinks on me tonight". I couldn't hide my elation that we had finally caught this bastard. The CIA was a good organization-maybe a little tough to work with-and for- at times, but they meant well and performed outstandingly most of the time. As we turned towards our car, I caught sight of a short-looking person wearing jeans and an orange shirt-just for a second; I could have sworn it was Rose. _God, man, two dates and you already can't stop thinking about her_, I chastised myself. But no time for that. Tonight was going to be a pub crawl, there was no doubt about that. We had earnt it, and we intended to relish it.

* * *

It was an excellent night. As most CIA agents do in their time off, we drank unholy amounts of crappy beer and sang very poorly to some hits from the eighties. Eddie ended up kissing a woman on the counter of the bar where he'd been dancing. When Mason had tried the same thing, he'd been pepper-sprayed, which led to Eddie and I rolling around in drunken laughter on the floor. This nearly escalated into a fight, but we were kicked out and told to sober up by an amused but nonetheless cranky bouncer. That had been around two-thirty this morning, and it was now eight. Mason had just stumbled from his room looking like death incarnate.

"Oh god," he groaned, holding his head. I smiled grimly, handing him a cup of coffee.

"My sentiments precisely." He sniffed the coffee.

"Dude, is there vodka in this?" He said questioningly.

"Hangover cure," I informed him. Works a treat."

"Huh, he mumbled. Alcohol to cure a hangover. And that's all you need to know about Russians." I rolled my eyes and let that one pass; after last night's episode, I was in no position to argue about cultural stereotypes.

"Where's Eddie?" I said instead. Mason snickered.

"Eddie," he stated calmly, "is doing damage control after sending his three ex-girlfriends drunken messages informing them he is a werewolf and that he loves them all," he informed me. I snickered, having absolutely no sympathy for the guy. My phone ran suddenly, it was a New York number.

"Belikov, I answered.

"Dimitri, it's Officer Bennet with the NYPD. You and your boys need to come in to the station about this voice recorder. It's urgent." I glanced at the half-dressed Mason, and then Eddie, who had staggered In with bloodshot eyes and a kill-me-now expression. I grinned.

"Give us five minutes. "

* * *

Ten minutes later we were at the police station, shown in to Detective O'Connely's office. Bennet and O'connely were both waiting for us, and wasted no time launching into their speech.

"Sit down," Bennet directed us. He was an older man, strongly-built with silvery hair and intelligent steely-blue eyes that didn't miss a thing.

"There's good news, and there's bad news. First of all, the file has been corrupted." Mason groaned, and muttered a swearword under his breath.

"We believe that somebody within the police force had something to do with this, but there's always the possibility it was a poor quality recording. The good news is, there was enough information audible to get some more clues from. "

"Let's hear it," I said, nodding. I had expected somebody to tamper with the tape-if Rosemarie had found out she was being recorded, she's have used contacts to deal with it. It had been purely bad luck that she had failed. The beginning was dismal, an excellent job had been done, and only a few words were audible. We heard the woman say something like "so the rumor is true" and something about a man named Douru, but that was it. A sudden burst of clearness allowed us to hear a full sentence.

"I may be a mole, but I'm not a double-traitor." What the hell did that mean? This woman had been moling inside the CIA, and Rosemarie must want information from her. But why?

"Douru was in on it," a voice said, just audible over the crackle of static, before more crackle took over. Suddenly, the voices came back.

"You've messed with something way out of your zone, agent," the victim said.

"Funny, said a cold, clear voice. I was just about to say the same thing to you." The recording stopped and we looked around.

"Wow, Eddie managed. She did a pretty good job of screwing with it." O'Connely nodded in agreement.

"That's for sure. "

"We'll talk to Alberta," I said, rising. "See if she knows who Douru is. We'll let you know when we find anything." We shook hands and quickly exited the building, calling Alberta as soon as we did.

'I heard, she said, answering the phone. What did it say?"

"Something about a man called Douru, and a reference to an agent. We had the impression that Rosemarie is trying to get information about who a person called Douru was working for, and why," I replied. I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other hand.

"Oh, fuck, Alberta said. How could we not have seen this? Belikov, put Ashford on." I handed the phone to Mason, who, upon hearing something Alberta said, became angry.

"It's not her! He growled. She wouldn't do that. No. Yes. He paused. I know, it fits. She's dead, Alberta," he said, sounding pained. "Yeah, he's here." He handed the phone back to me.

"Dimitri, I'm almost convinced I know who it is, she said excitedly. I believe what we have on our hands is former agent Rose Hathaway. She worked a mission on a man called Robert Douru, it was a drug bust case a while back. She got caught as a mole, would have been arrested if she hadn't escaped. Rumor was she died, another rumor was she was framed, most people around here believe it."

"You think she's involved with the nuclear thing, then?"

"Difficult to say. Rose was a smart girl, she could have been in on it."

"I know, I muttered. I've heard of Rose Hathaway. She graduated with top scores from St Vladimirs, was the CIA's golden girl for a while. Bat shit insane and dangerous as hell. "

"You got it, Alberta said grimly. Bring her in, Dimitri, but be careful. She'll be watching you very closely, and she won't hesitate to strike if you get in her way. She's closer than you think, I just know it."

* * *

**So Dimitri's getting closer to finding out the truth, pity Rose's plan didn't work…Leave me a review!**

**Em xx**


	8. Chapter 8: Too Close for Comfort

**Sorry for the late UD-Hope you like it! Review please ;)**

* * *

I was on lunch duty the next day when my cellphone beeped, and I recognized the number as Christian's.

"We need to talk", he told me shortly.

"We're talking," I deadpanned.

"The file corruption didn't work as well as it should have. They're onto you now, Rose. They've made the link between Rosemarie and Hathaway."

"Took them long enough, I muttered. I honestly don't know how they never saw it in the first place."

"I think I do, he said grimly. I think somebody in the CIA was covering for you. Trying to make it seem like there was no way you would have been able to do it, maybe even stealing some evidence. You are, after all, supposed to be dead." I smiled dryly.

"Well, death was fun for a while, but I have a feeling resurrection's gonna be a hoot. Did you find out who else is working this?" I asked.

"Mason and Eddie. Some guy named Belikov, too. Apparently he's top shit. " I frowned, tapping my fingers against the oak banister, and scowled at a few girls running in the hallway. They slowed nearly immediately, and I winked at them, shooing them off with a wave of my hand.

"You think I should go after him?"

"Mason and Ed'll be onto you like a pack of bloodhounds. No." I nodded. I wouldn't have anyway, Beli-whatever-his-name-was- didn't have anything to do with my side of things.

"By the way, he said, sounding uncomfortable. Rose, I've lost a few informants, they're getting nervy. I'm changing this number, too. "

"You think you're being watched? " I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably paranoia, but netter safe than sorry. You going ahead with this thing tonight? "

"I have to. I can't let them scare me," I said fiercely.

"Jesus, just be careful, he said, sounding exasperated. Honestly, there's too much at stake here. Mason and Ed will be onto you, they've got the park bugged. Just get the hell out of there if it proves too much. So much as a whisper of trouble and they'll be there, and they'll recognize you."

"Fine, I said, rolling my eyes. Cross my heart, I'll be careful." With that, I ended the call.

* * *

**ANOTHER POV**

At a high-rise apartment approximately three hundred yards from where that phone conversation had taken place, a person sat in a leather office chair listening intently to the conversation playing out. They smiled to themselves as Rose hung up, making a few notes on a sheet of paper. _High St and Windsor_, they wrote. _9.30 pm._ The person crossed smoothly to the locked cabinet in the corner of the otherwise unremarkable office, and took out a revolver. After checking it was loaded, they slipped it inside the deep folds of their long black coat. Tonight, as they had for every previous kill, they would watch Rosemarie very, very carefully. But tonight was different. Tonight was their chance to act, and act they would-viciously, quietly. It was time for them, the Benefactor, to intervene at last.

This was no longer a simple game of cat and mouse, but a larger more convoluted game more like Chess. Every move had to be accounted for, it was important to see things as a whole, and not just elements of it. Tonight that would become Rosemarie's undoing. She would not be able to see the broader picture, but only an element of it. They would be ready. And they would do what they had to.

* * *

"Fuck, shit,_ shit_," I muttered to myself, ducking behind a wall as my target looked behind them and increased their footsteps. This was not how this was supposed to happen, and I wondered if one of my informants had tipped them off. Or maybe they were just jumpy because they knew that they'd had this coming. Probably the latter, I thought, smiling grimly to myself. That was half the fun of this. The chase, the pursuit, and inevitably, the death.

They could run all they liked, but even in a city as big as this one, there was nowhere to hide. This was the man who'd given evidence against me, who had confirmed he'd heard me plotting against the CIA. I was sure Douru had paid him off to say that, and now I could get confirmation. I peeked around the corner and walked quickly the opposite direction, trying to calm my fraying nerves. God. Since when was I nervous about doing this? Maybe since Eddie and Mason became a part of it, their presence unnerved me. I could see the target, making his way back to the crappy motel he was booked into to try and be less conspicuous. I smirked, breathing quietly, steadily, flicking the safety off my gun. I slowly eyed around the corner and got officially the biggest fright of my life.

Eddie and Mason were standing at the opposite end of the street, talking to someone on the phone. It looked like they were screening the area. _How had they known?_ Maybe another tip-off. I gritted my teeth, hearing their voices come closer, my heart in my mouth. They must have stopped at the motel entrance, I could just manage to hear them speaking in low tones. I took that chance and ran. I sprinted down another alleyway, jumping over a few garbage cans and into another, smaller alley.

"Hey, what was that?" Mason asked. I heard a clattering of footsteps go past my alleyway and felt physically sick at how close they'd come.

After a brief respite, I slipped my high heels back on and walked in the opposite direction about ten minutes. Finally reaching Rosemarie's little apartment, I collapsed on the sofa inside. I needed a drink. A really, really, strong one. That had been a little bit too close for comfort. Oh, who was I kidding? That had nearly been a freaking catastrophe.

I kicked off my shoes once again and locked and chained the door securely, pulling the blinds town tightly as if I could cocoon myself in here. I gripped my wine glass as I tried to calm my shaking nerves, focusing on my breathing. I should have been more prepared. Eddie and Mason were good, as good as me, I should have been less confident.

Yes, I'd lost the target, but my identity was still-relatively-secure. And that was the most important thing, because I had much bigger fish to fry. I had to stop focusing on the middle men and aim a strike at one of the big ones. I had to disregard all the minor leads of people who could possibly know something, and concentrate on the ones who did know something. I had to track down Douru, and get my answers, before the boys could find me and all hell broke loose.

* * *

I slept at the apartment that night and took a cab back to my place at about six the next morning. A doorman grinned at me.

"Late night, Miss Rose?" He asked cheerfully, winking mischievously at me. I smiled wearily.

"Yeah, something like that," I agreed. If only you knew, I thought to myself, and trudged upstairs, running myself a hot bath, and then getting changed into some tracksuit pants and a hoodie. Quickly I called in sick for the day-I only had one class anyway. Besides, I figured that nearly getting caught murdering a CIA agent by your two former best friends warrants a mental health day. I switched my phone on and saw eight missed calls from a number I didn't recognize. I wondered if it was Christian's new number, perhaps he'd called to see how things had gone, but he was paranoid about leaving patterns and probably wouldn't do that. As I was puzzling over it, my phone buzzed-that number was calling.

"Hello?" I asked.

"It's me, Christian said. Changed your name, have you?" I frowned.

"What d'you mean?"

"Last night. Nice job, by the way. Must have been a pretty tough one, what with the three musketeers running around that end of town. "

"Is this line secure? I asked. He snorted as if it were obvious.

"Yep. What's up?" He asked.

"I had a near miss with Ed and Mase last night. I lost the target and they came damn near to discovering me. "

"You mean you didn't kill him?" Christian asked. I snorted.

"No, I totally used telepathic powers to fry his mind, I retorted. What happened? "

"I can't talk about it. I'll send you some pictures, he told me. Just lie low for a few, okay?"

"Don't have to tell me twice, I muttered," and we said our goodbyes. About two minutes later my phone lit up and I clicked on the picture. It was a photo of my target, lying face-down in his bed, a bullet wound in his head, crimson blood staining the pillow.

But it was the words on his immaculate, light-blue work shirt that intrigued me more than anything. In the middle of his back, in ornate, curly black ink, a name had been signed.

_-The Benefactor. _

* * *

**So there's another player now...Who could it be? That was a very near miss...Some Dimitri/Rose moments coming up...Review please!**

**Em xx**


	9. Chapter 9: The Christian Collision

**So I think some of you may be wondering who the benefactor is, but unfortunately I can't give anything away. That is to be revealed no sooner than the second-last chapter…Speaking of chapters, there's no more than 12 left, things are getting exciting now. BUT I want to challenge you! Leave me a review saying who you think the benefactor is, and why you think so, and I'll PM you if you guess correctly! It's up to you guys!**

* * *

"_The benefactor."_ What the heck did that mean? Who was that, and what did they want from me? Were they an enemy or an ally? Was this an act of assistance, or a way to threaten me that I was messing with things way out of my league? Moreover, why? The never ending questions turned over in my mind, making me toss restlessly and worry. Somebody had been following me, following my target. I smiled grimly. Kind of a screwed up version of inception. School was out for two weeks, giving me much more time to think about things.

I was no closer on finding out who Douru's boss had been, and if they were still around. I was lying in bed with my laptop on my stomach, aimlessly searching the web. My phone buzzed to life and I smiled, it was a text-message from Dimitri.

_Sorry we didn't get to meet this week. Work's crazy._ I smiled, picking up my phone.

_Don't worry, mine too. Want to catch up sometime early next week_? Almost immediately, I got a reply.

_What about tonight? _

_Busy. ;( _

_Tomorrow? ;)_

_Having a dinner party at Lissa's. I was going to invite you? _

_Wouldn't want to impose. _I had to smile, he was always so…what was the word? Maybe polite, but more than that. Gentlemanly? I shook my head ruefully.

_Don't be silly. She knows you're coming. Meet me at mine, 6pm xox_

_See you then x_

I signed, flopping my head back into the pillow. I didn't know where things were going with us. On the weekend when we'd met up in Central Park, we had kissed. My stomach tingled just thinking about it. It had been…well, cheesy as it sounds, magical. Completely and utterly awesome. I thought having him meet Lissa and the girls would be a good step, because a) they were dying to meet the guy I constantly jabbered on about, and b) so I could convince Lissa he wasn't imaginary (she was of the opinion I had made him up to get her off my back about meeting someone.) My other phone rang and I picked up quickly.

"I'm listening," I said abruptly.

"Yeah, hi, Stan said, sounding nervous. Look, Rose, as much as I want to help you, things are getting real dangerous. They caught the guy who screwed with the recording, I'm getting outta the US before they can catch on to me." I winced. I had half expected it, but nevertheless, it hurt.

"I understand. Thanks for your help. Do you need help with resources?" He hesitated, and I rolled my eyes. I knew he never liked asking for money.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get you a ticket to"- I paused, waiting for him.

"Dubai."

"-To Dubai by tonight. I paused and smirked. Also, expect a sum of money entitled "winnings" in your second bank account. "

"I appreciate it," he said warmly. I shook my head.

"Least I can do after all of these years. You take care. I'm removing your number."

"Ditto," he told me, and after a last goodbye, we ended the call. After deleting his number, I sighed.

Stan was the second informant I'd lost this week, fourth if you counted the two Christian had lost. Shaking my head, I glanced at the clock. It was twelve. After a quick shower and a bite to eat, I decided to get the ticket for Stan organized, which, with my connections, took about five minutes, and then I drove down to his place-he was the only one of my contacts that actually lived in the same city as me-and put it in his mailbox. I swore as my phone blipped as I drove away-another text message from another informant.

_Too dangerous. Am terminating this arrangement. Good Luck. _

Fine, I muttered, deleting that number as well. Never liked you anyways, asshole. I parked my car in the apartment garage and was about to hit the door button when I saw an envelope sticking out of my mailbox. I frowned and drew it out-it was unmarked, no return address, nothing. Along with that was a parcel wrapped in brown paper about as big as a thick book, which intrigued me. How would somebody get that in there without a key? Shrugging I climbed into the deserted lift, waiting until I was in my own apartment to open it up. I opened the envelope first, and the black, ornate handwriting was instantly familiar.

_Rosemarie-_

_I believe congratulations are in order. There are few who can meddle with the CIA to such an extent and remain free. They draw ever nearer to you, and the price upon your head is insurmountable. Yet you have won my support, and that of my organization. The following information you will likely find frustrating, as I have been ordered to censor it until such a time that I am certain I may trust you completely. Do not alter your patterns. Watch your back. Your enemies-and your friends-are closer than you would imagine. _

_-The Benefactor. _

I blinked, gaping at the note. This person, whoever they were, knew precisely where I was. How? How long had they been watching me, monitoring my actions? Why had they decided to render assistance? I had no clue, and ripped the other package open. Heavily bubble-wrapped and packaged I found a slim file with the words "Confidential" and "Top Secret" splayed all over it in huge capital letters. Is the benefactor somebody inside the CIA? I wondered, and opened the file. I realized quickly it was a transcript of a telephone conversation. Glancing at the date, I saw it had taken place only a few days prior to my arrest four years ago. It had taken place between the woman target, Jane Windsor, and somebody whose name was blacked out. I began to read.

_"I'm so glad you decided to join, Jane. Being against me can have its ramifications."_

_"I'm aware of that. Is the money-"_

_"All paid in full. You shall receive it by this weekend, at its latest."_

_"You don't think they'll suspect you, do you, - ? After all, you once had connections here."_

_"Connections I have long since broken. Do not concern yourself with me."_

_"What of Douru? Do you intend to kill him?"_

_"No, not yet. Douru is useful, but he is stupid, a mere pawn. Once his usefulness has expired, I will certainly dispose of him."_

_"I understand. And the decoy will work?"_

_"To perfection. She will not have a chance."_

_"In that case, it was pleasant doing business with you." _

_"Jane."_

_"-." _

I read it through a few times, my eyebrows raising exponentially. So, an ex-CIA agent was using Douru, but for what? And why had they been so concerned with me? I didn't understand why the benefactor had blocked out the name. After all, if they'd had the nerve to approach me, to leave a message in my letterbox in broad freaking daylight, why censor the name? I groaned. This sick game of twenty-one questions wasn't helping anyone, least of all my sanity.

* * *

I grinned as the doors to my building slid open, seeing Dimitri leaning against a pole, reading-predictably-a western. He looked great-simple black work pants and a dark blue button down, complimenting-unwittingly-my dark blue dress. I wolf-whistled at him, and he glanced up with a smile of his own.

"Hey, I drawled. Or should I say, howdy?" I asked, with a pointed look at his book. His smile widened.

"Hey yourself," he drawled, doing a very poor imitation of a cowboy accent. Not many Russian cowboys around these days. We walked the block to Lissa's apartment chatting amiably, and were shown up by an exasperated doorman, who was probably sick and tired of Lissa's dinner parties. Music was drifting from the penthouse when we arrived.

"Brace yourself," I told him, and he grinned as we pushed open the door. The kitchen and entertainment area was abuzz with people-Mia and her boyfriend, a few of our other friends, Lissa being the perfect social butterfly as she served appetizers and chatted. She looked up as the door opened and squealed.

"Rose!" You made it. She dashed over to give me a peck on the cheek, and then turned, stunned, to Dimitri.

"Um, Lissa Dragomir, Dimitri Turgenev," I said, waving my hand between them. Dimitri smiled and nodded at her.

"Hi, Lissa. I've heard a lot about you." She laughed.

"Some of it good, I hope. Nice to meet you," Lissa said instantly, giving me a not-so-subtle dig in the ribs. They shook hands. After introductions to a few other friends had been done-I was surprised that Dimitri and my friend called Adrian hit it off straight away-Lissa dragged me away from him.

"Oh. My. God! She hissed. Rose, where did you find him?" I laughed.

"I told you, while I was running."

"Maybe I should run more, she mused, before succumbing to details. But come on, the guy's awesome! I nodded my agreement, watching him laugh with Adrian.

If I wasn't with Chris, I'd totally hit on him she informed me." I scowled at her.

"Stay away. I glanced around. Hey! Speaking of your mystery boyfriend of three weeks, who I have yet to meet-I glared, and she blushed-where is he?" Lissa smiled at somebody behind me.

"Oh! Speak of the devil," she said, and I turned, eager to determine whether he was good enough for her.

I got a huge, massive shock. I felt like somebody had poured buckets of ice water down my back. Standing behind me, a goofy smile on his face, was _Christian Ozera._ Whose expression quickly turned to shock, then horror.

"Christian?" I gasped, before I could stop myself.

"Rose," he said, sounding strangled.

"You guys know each other?" Lissa said, frowning. _Yep. He's only been helping me murder a tally of eleven CIA agents in New York in the past two months_, I thought to myself dryly. Christian nodded.

"Yes, we do, actually. We went to the same university, Rose studied teaching, I was doing business. We met through a friend," he said smoothly, and Lissa looked appeased. I plastered a smile on my face.

"So good to see you again!" I exclaimed, giving him a hug. He laughed.

"Yeah, small world, huh?"

"Too small," I muttered, for his ears only.

"I'll let you guys catch up," Lissa said, smiling, and danced away. I swung around on Christian.

"You told me you were in Cali!" I hissed. He grimaced.

"Sorry, Rose. It was safer if you didn't know where I was."

"You gave me a freakin' heart attack," I muttered, and the Dimitri came up, placing a kiss on my cheek. I introduced them to each other, and they also seemed to get along well.

"Sydney not here?" I asked Mia, who blinked, trying not to stare at Dimitri.

"Nah, she said she had a date. So, she said, changing subject and winking at Dimitri. You two done the dirty yet?" I blushed instantly.

"Mia!" I admonished severely. She raised an eyebrow.

"Oooh. So you have?" I shook my head furiously.

"You're such a gossipmonger. No, we haven't," I clarified, as I grabbed a few vol-a-vonts before Adrian could devour the entire platter. Mia smirked.

"Yeah, sure. C'mon, let's go say hi to them," she said, jabbing her finger at a crowd of our old friends, and I followed her happily, allowing all thoughts of Rosemarie to slip my mind for a while longer.

* * *

**Another POV**:

The Benefactor watched all of this through their binoculars and chuckled to themselves. Oh, the irony. A murderer, an informant and a detective all unwittingly in the same room? Sharing laughter, jokes, conversation, completely oblivious that when night fell, they joined to play a deadly game on the streets of their city? It was almost unbelievable, the stuff from which crime novels are written. If only they knew, they mused, placing the binoculars aside and leaning back in their chair. If only they knew. But the time was not yet right for knowing. There was still so much yet to be done, and so very little time in which to do it.

* * *

**So Rose's double life is finally starting to catch up to her! Please leave me a review and don't forget to tell me who you think the blocked out name AND the Benefactor are! I'll PM whoever gets it right :) Until next time!**

**Em xx**


	10. Chapter 10: They Always Do

**Wow! Thanks to the people who reviewed! There were a few amusing guesses and some people I didn't even think of! A few people got close or guessed partly, but nobody got it completely right...Oh well! Enjoy this chap guys, leave a review please! xox **

* * *

"If you're sure, Rose, I'm certain I can arrange that."

"Yes, I'm sure."

"How much time will you need?"

"A month should be sufficient"

"Very well, I'll inform your class. You're a damn fine teacher, Rose, and we'd be sorry to lose you, so why don't you take the time and keep your leave." I smiled.

"Thanks, Diana. I'll see you early September."

"Bye!" She chirped, and I hung up. I sighed to myself. Excellent. It was exactly what I needed-time away from the academy to concentrate on the huge, screwed-up mess that was becoming my life. It had been a week since the Benefactor's message, and every day I was receiving some more tidbits from them, drawing me ever deeper into their dangerous trap. Clues about who it might have been, clues about what exactly Douru had been trying to hide, clues about which ops team might have set me up. I knew what I had to do; I just didn't want to do it yet. I had to go to Russia and get closer on my own, chase down a few old friends that were willing to help me and find out what had happened. That would come, I thought, walking down the street in the twilight dusk. But as for now, I had a murder to commit.

* * *

Murdering Sonya Karp proved more difficult than I had anticipated. For a woman of fifty-five she moved fast and far, and, as I remembered, she was sharp as a cobra. I'm sure she knew I was following her, and it satisfied me a little that I scared her. That she knew she was being pursued, that she knew, like all the others, I was going to find her, and when I did…I smiled grimly, drawing my coat tighter around myself. It was cold tonight, the streets and wind were frosty, but the air was heavy with anticipation. Suddenly, Sonya stopped where she was, right under a tree in central park, a streetlight illuminating her figure.

"Rose Hathaway," she said, sounding calm, but towards the end her voice quavered.

"Sonya," I said silkily. "Karma's a real bitch, huh?" My shots hit their target, square in her back, and she crumpled forwards, the blood staining her expensive cream colored jacket. After signing my name, I briskly turned and walked the other way, feeling the strange high that always accompanied doing something like that.

Killing Sonya wasn't really for a purpose, more of a statement and personal revenge. She had been very high up in the agency, and once upon a time, a mentor, but everything had changed the day they'd denounced me. I wanted to send a message to them that nobody was untouchable, that nobody could hide, that I'd always find them. And I had succeeded in the best way possible. But revenge on those who had hurt me was not only what I'd needed. I'd realized with the addition of Dimitri in my life, with my friends and even Abe, that I had a profound need to clear my name. I couldn't live under a shadow any longer. I needed to find the evidence that could redeem me and expose all these people as the traitorous scum they always had been. There was one more person I needed to finish off with before that happened, though.

His name was Joseph Zelokos, and he'd been my boss on the assignment. He had hidden himself very, very well, but I knew he was in New York for a few days on business. Getting to him, however, would prove impossible. He had a bodyguard twice my size, and was officially the most paranoid person ever. And trust me, working in the CIA, you get to meet a lot of paranoid people. My own paranoia was probably what had got me this far, come to think of it. I'd been wanting to get Joseph since the first time I had started out on this crusade, but it had always been impossible. I was beginning to think that it was never going to happen, that I should just give up and settle my scores with him at a later date.

A police siren from around the corner successfully made my heart jump somewhere into my throat, but I forced myself to do what any self-respecting New Yorker would do-go and have a stickybeak. So I turned the corner, walking as normally as possible, and saw a crowd of maybe fifteen civilians, an ambulance and a grim-faced, seasoned NYPD officer, all staring at the same thing.

On the stairs, lying on his back with an unopened envelope in his hand, was Joseph Zelokos.

He had been shot in the head, and there wasn't much left of that part of his body. I pushed forwards through the shocked crowd, almost sure of what I would see. On his crisp white shirt in black writing was that fateful word-The Benefactor. I gulped, and following the policeman's orders, the civilians walked back down the street, grumbling. I went back to Rosemarie's apartment and quickly got changed, then walked the block back to my apartment with a strange feeling in my chest. This person knew so, so much about me, what my patterns were, who I had to settle scores with. The doorman jumped out from behind the door and I nearly screamed.

"S'only me, Miss Rose. "

"Oh! You-you scared me," I gasped. He shook his head ruefully.

"Sorry, Rose. Anyways, I just had a message to give to you. It was lying on the doormat." I looked at the writing and recognized it-ornate, black ink.

"Did you see who left it here?" I asked, almost desperately. He shook his head.

"No, sorry, ma'am. Maybe one of your admirers?" I shook my head wearily at him, and climbed into the lift, wasting no time in ripping open the envelope. With shaking fingers, I read the note.

_You're welcome. –B._

* * *

**DPOV**

"Who the hell is this benefactor? I groaned. There's got to be something we know about him." Mason shook his head.

"Nothing. Zip. Nada. Zero. Nien. Nil."

"Okay, we get it, Eddie said impatiently. Could it be a copycat?"

"A copycat targeting the exact same type of people as Rosemarie?" Mason shrugged.

"Hey, maybe sociopaths have friends, too. Maybe they all go to a sociopath meeting every month." He stood up, and raised his hand, putting it on his heart.

"Hi, I'm Mason, and I'm a sociopath," he said solemnly, making both Eddie and I chuckle. Usually, it wouldn't even be half funny, but it was three am and none of us had slept in thirty hours. The murders-Karp and Zelokos, who were both involved with Rose Hathaway and on the nuclear arms committee- had taken place only fifteen minutes apart, from what the ME would tell us. Now we were brainstorming, and the only thing we had to show as three industrial-sized empty bottles of Red Bull.

"Maybe it's nothing. Maybe the Benefactor is Rosemarie," Eddie argued. His eyes dropped. "If it is Rose, that's something she would do. Try and throw us off a little."

"Well. Your friend sounds nice," I drawled, earning bleary glares from both of them that I'd maybe find intimidating if they weren't horribly sleep deprived.

"Rose was set up," Mason hissed. "She had no choice. She wants revenge, she's angry."

"Angry? More like freaking pissed," Eddie said dryly.

"Anyways. She's out for revenge, and once she gets it she'll want to clear her name." I sighed.

"Look. We can't focus on the person right now. Just the problem. If she really was innocent you can push for an inquiry."

"After she' killed one-third of the members of a top-secret organization trying to outlaw nuclear technology in small countries?" Mason snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure she'll be popular. I'm sure they'll all just forgive and forget, own up to their mistakes."

"Mase, quit it", Eddie said irritably. "It isn't helping." He sighed.

"I know, man. I just keep seeing her everywhere, you know? Thinking I see her out of the corner of my eye. The way she walked, or just a flash of her face, or that night we were casing that street and we heard something." He shook his head tiredly. "She was my best friend for sixteen years. That kind of history doesn't go away fast." There was a pause, and Mason's pained face made me feel bad. I knew what it was like to lose a best friend, but maybe not in the way he had.

"Look. Enough about her. Let's talk about the benefactor."

"Similar style to Rose-_he winced_-marie, maybe even a similar profile. The name "Benefactor" usually denotes somebody older, more experienced, though."

"You're throwing potshots," Mason said exasperatedly. "We've got no clue, let's just admit it and go to sleep. I shrugged, trying to divert another argument.

"Let's face it. The Benefactor's human. Rose is human. "

"Sometimes," Eddie muttered. I ignored him.

"Point is, one of them is going to have to make a mistake sometime soon." I hesitated for a split second before continuing. "They always do."

* * *

**Okay! So another few murders, any more guesses on the benefactor? Lots of drama in the upcoming chapters, thanks for reading! Leave me a review :)**


	11. Chapter 11: What Goes Up

**Firstly-Sorry for the late UD! It's been crazy recently and I spent a lot of time trying to get out a good chapter for my other fic, My Saving Grace, it's difficult to have two on the go! Anyhoo, somebody did ask for a bit more Rose/Dimitri stuff, so I've added in a little moment for them because I felt like I was neglecting their relationship...So here it is! Enjoy :)**

* * *

"You sure you don't want me to come to the airport?" Dimitri asked as we walked hand-in-hand through a boulevard in Central Park. It was just before dusk and the sun was setting, sparkling pinpricks through the trees and making what had already been a wonderful night even more magical. I smiled at him.

"I'm sure," I said, shaking my head at him. He was absolutely the sweetest man I'd ever met, but I'd been able to tell through the last couple weeks he was getting stressed. He told me he was having issues with a work matter, and from the strained way he looked when he talked about it, I hadn't brought it up. I grinned sideways at him.

"Plus, you know what they say." He quirked an eyebrow.

"No, what do they say? I never tire of these American idioms." I rolled my eyes at him.

"You know…How absence makes the heart grow fonder?" I teased, and he rolled his eyes back.

"One of the stupider of your idioms, I have to say."

"It's true!" I protested. He shook his head.

"I don't think so, but we'll see," I suppose, he drawled. I gave him my best hurt look.

"You mean you won't miss me?" I asked teasingly. His face fell.

"I didn't mean it like that! He exclaimed. Roza, I don't need a week away from you for my heart to grow fonder," he said quietly, and gave me a rare, full breathtaking smile. "That happens every time I see you," he finished, his beautiful chocolate eyes melting into mine. I felt slightly queasy. _Oh holy god, what this man is capable of doing to me_, I thought. I stuck my tongue out.

"Wow, who knew you were such a romantic, huh Comrade?" I quipped. He shrugged.

"I cannot tell a lie_." I can_, I thought to myself. _I can, and I'm doing it right now. I'm doing it all the time, every minute, every second of my life_. A wave of guilt and sadness passed over me as we ended up back at my apartment. He drew me slightly into him until we were nearly touching, but not quite.

"You know what this means?" I asked, a little breathlessly. His eyebrow arched.

"No, what?"

"I get my goodbye kiss right now," I said, slightly giddily. He studied me, a slight smile curling on the edges of his mouth.

"Well then. Let's make it a good one," he whispered, and before I could utter another word, he cupper my face in one hand and we got lost in our kiss_. I'm falling for you_, I thought to myself. _I'm falling for you, hard. _When I was with him, I always felt like I was flying, like I was on top of the world and untouchable. But there was one more of my idioms I knew to be true better than anyone else- a lesson I had learned the hard way, from heartache and experience.

_Whatever goes up must, eventually, come crashing back down. _

And I was afraid more than anything that when it did come down, it wouldn't be quietly, oh no It would come crashing spectacularly down in flames.

And every day, every moment I continued my double life, that moment was drawing nearer.

* * *

I swung my duffel bag onto the conveyer belt and smiled at the air hostess, who handed me my boarding pass.

"Enjoy your stay in Baia, Ms. Mazur," she said in a sickly sweet tone.

"Thanks," I muttered, taking the ticket from her pink talons and walking down the corridor to the plane. I'd chosen Baia because I had absolutely no connections there, I needed to get away from things, get away from the benefactor and Mason and Eddie. New York was a freaking big city but it had become too crowded, full with familiar faces and heavy with accusation. Baia would provide me a chance to get closer on my own, track down Douru and find out which ops team had set me up. I'd told Lissa, Mia and Sydney that I was going on a teacher's conference in Moscow, and after much trepidation, they'd believed me. I fed Dimitri the same line, which hurt me. I didn't like lying to him. Here was a person in my life so new, so fresh with utterly no idea of my past, and already the relationship was based on deceit and lies. I signed heavily and sat down on my business class seat, plugging in my headphones and disappearing into my music for a while.

* * *

Courtesy of the CIA academy, I spoke enough Russian to get by in most things-although these people spoke goddamned fast and I had to ask them to slow down a million times, much to the taxi driver's amusement.

"Do you know a place where I can stay?" I asked him, and he nodded eagerly.

"Yes ma'am. The good lady has a motel not a mile from the town market." I nodded and ten minutes later we pulled up outside the sweetest little bed and breakfast ever. It was a brick house with white and blue shutters, an immaculate rose garden and a few trees blooming with purple flowers.

Thank you, I told him, and threw him a couple twenties over the backseat. He drove off cheerfully and I approached the house, knocking on the door once.

"Mama! A young voice cried. Cus-tom-er!" The cheerful voice sang.

"Don't yell so, Viktoria, an older, cross-sounding voice said. It's very unbecoming." Footsteps clattered on the floor and the door was opened to see a woman of about fifty, plump with glowing skin and rosy cheeks. She looked like the Russian version of a fairy godmother and had kind brown eyes that smiled at me.

"Hello! Welcome to the Belikov Bed and Breakfast."

"Hi, I'm Rose, I said, liking this lady already. I was told this is the best place to stay in Baia." The lady blushed.

"Well, we do try. Come in dearest, we'll get you a room. Vika!" She called, and a pretty girl of about sixteen appeared with her mother's dark brown hair and brown eyes.

"Please take the young lady's bags." I shook my head, smiling.

"No, it's fine. I can manage."

"Is that the only one you have! The lady exclaimed. My, you Americans do travel light. My girls could learn from you."

"Not all of us," I said, laughing, my thoughts flying to Lissa. She chuckled and handed me a room key.

"Here you are, dear. How long will you be staying, Miss?"

"Rose, I finished. Rose Hathaway. A week, I replied," and she nodded.

"Oh, I see. Oh! Pardon me, my name is Olena."

"Nice to meet you," I said warmly as she showed me into a pretty room decorated in red and cream.

"I thought it was fitting, considering your name is Rose," she said, laughing.

"Thank you."

"Now, there's plenty of dining places in the town, but you're most welcome to eat with us tonight. It's the off season, you see, and we do like our guests to be a part of the family."

"Thank you, I'd love to join you, if it's not too-"She flapped her hands at me.

"Not to worry. We usually eat at six-thirty, in the living room just across from the foyer. She smiled brightly. It's just my girls and you-oh, and the other English girl. See you later!" With a cheery wave she bustled away, and immediately I flopped down on the plush bed, my thoughts coming full circle back to my current surroundings. _Belikov._ Hadn't I heard that name before?

I shrugged it off, making a mental note to check on it later. For the time being I unpacked my jeans and hung up the few pressed shirts I had brought. I'd only packed two pairs of shoes-a classic black pair of heels and my combat boots, and between them they covered pretty much every possible situation. I'd packed one disguise, just in case, and then plugged in my laptop and phone using the adapter I'd bought at the airport. My phone buzzed with messages, one from Dimitri, one from my Russian informant.

_Hope your flight was alright. Thinking of you-D_. Smiling, I checked the other one.

_I'll meet you in the plaza, lunchtime tomorrow. Don't be late. _I nodded, knowing he wouldn't expect an answer, and stowed my phone away, swinging off the bed and into a hot, steamy shower. By the time I'd dried my hair and pulled on a pair of denim jeans and a blood red blouse, it was six, so I wandered into the living room to see if I could help with anything. I nearly crashed into Viktoria.

"Sorry. Here, let me take some of that," I offered, outstretching my hands for half of the stack of plates she was carrying. She flashed me a grateful smile, one that seemed vaguely familiar, and together we set the table, chatting as we did so. I learnt she was seventeen, the youngest of four, she had two older sisters and an older brother. Both of her sisters, along with her mother and grandmother lived in the house.

"It can be a real pain, she said, rolling her eyes. Such a crowded house sometimes, my sisters drive me insane." I laughed, and was about to enquire as to her brother's name when Olena bustled in with several huge pots in her hand, another pretty brown-haired girl, this one with steely eyes, following behind her with baskets of bread and a few bottles of wine.

"Olena, I'm terribly sorry, said a graceful young voice from the doorway. I meant to help you cook, but I received a telephone call a half-hour ago I simply couldn't miss." The girl looked around my age, maybe slightly younger. She reminded me of Lissa-all pale skin and blonde hair, but hers was ringlet curly and her eyes were a cobalt-blue, not green. She wore a delicate white dress emphasizing her tall, slender figure, her creamy cheeks flushed pink. Olena smiled at the newcomer.

"Do you think I would allow a guest to cook in my house? She demanded in mock-anger. Never. Oh, Jill, meet Rose. She is from America, she is staying here a week." The girl-Jill-extended a hand to me and we shook.

"You're a New Yorker," she said, smiling. I nodded.

"Sure am, ma'am," I said, doing my best southern drawl, much to the general amusement. She sighed.

"I've always wanted to go. I'm from London myself, I'm here on an extended vacation." I sat beside her and Viktoria, and between us the table was filled with chatter. A wizened old woman with sharp steely eyes sat in the corner-I assumed her to be Olena's mother, and everyone treated her with reverence-hardly saying a word. A few times I could have sworn I saw her looking at me with a half-smile, half frown on her pursed lips.

After dinner-Jill and I insisted upon cleaning up-we sat in the living room, Olena playing the piano, Yeva-the old woman-in the corner in a majestic red armchair, Viktoria disappeared to talk to some boy, we gathered. Jill sat quietly down beside me and discreetly passed me a note.

_I know who you are, Rosemarie Hathaway_. I jumped as if I'd been electrified, meeting a mischievous blue gaze.

_How?_ I wrote hastily.

_I work with your informant. The one you're meeting tomorrow. I should like to join you for lunch._

_Why? _I scribbled frantically. She read the single word and a faint smile crossed her lips.

_You aren't the only one who wants to bust Douru and his boss. There's a lot more at stake here than just revenge._

_What do you know? _She paused to consider this,

_I know the people you're killing are attracting CIA attention, and I know there's a bigger reason why. I know Douru was involved in something far greater than a drug ring, and it's common knowledge you would have found it out had he not framed you. I know a Russian ops team was involved in setting you up, and that the bossman was an ex CIA agent. Do I warrant a lunch invitation? _I smiled grimly at her.

_Consider yourself invited. _She winked at me, tucking the paper into the folds of her dress.

"I'm so tired, she sighed. Goodnight, all!" She said cheerily, disappearing into her room. Fifteen minutes later I followed suit, well aware that as I said my goodnights, Yeva's eyes watched me sharply, shrewdly from her armchair. They seemed to sparkle knowingly, as if she, too, knew who I was and why I was here, a thought I didn't very much like to contemplate.

* * *

Sipping my coffee, I leaned back into the cool sunshine that was midday in Baia. It was such a stunning town with a beautiful little plaza, quaint old buildings and an incredible little church. But I wasn't here for the scenery, or the architecture. I was waiting for my informant, who was typically, irritatingly late. Just then Jill appeared from behind me, making me jump. She was wearing white jeans and a pretty pink blouse, her blue eyes shining with mischief.

"Hello, Rose. Enjoying the scenery?" I snickered, and a waiter came, she ordered iced tea in perfect Russian.

"He's late," I commented, switching to English. She raised an eyebrow amusedly.

"You know him as well as I do. He's never been on time."

"Rose, said a smiling voice behind me, and I groaned at the oh-so-suggestive tone. Long time, no see, beautiful."

"You will be the death of me, Callum. I swear it." Callum Ashford swung a messenger bag down onto a chair besides Jill, then-much to my surprise-turned sideways and planted a kiss on her lips, causing her to blush as I raised an eyebrow. Then, he turned, shaking his wavy copper hair and gave me a lopsided smile heartbreakingly similar to the one my ex-best-friend, Mason, his half-brother, used to give.

"So, what's new? He drawled. Word has it my brother's on your ass. He winked at me. Not a bad place to be, by any means." I gritted my teeth.

"Will you quit with the innuendoes?"

"Never, he said, chuckling. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, didn't think so. And yep, Mason's on my _tail_," I said, emphasizing the last word. Cal snickered. Ever since Mason and I split up in senior year he'd been trying to get us back together, but simultaneously trying to get into my pants. _Men. Go figure._ Cal had attended St Vlad's with me and the others, but he'd never really been a part of our group until Mason and I started going out. I'd kept sporadic contact with him after graduating. He went AWOL and became something of a rouge consultant- like me, he'd always been a firm believer that rules were made to be broken and there was no fun in playing by them. I rolled my eyes.

"Enough with the small talk, I'm paying you for every minute your ass is in this chair. What have you got for me?"

"Conformation about Douru, I saw him with these baby blues two days ago in Moscow."

What was he doing in Moscow? I asked curiously.

"That's where this gets interesting. You know there was an ops team involved, right? I nodded eagerly.

"Well, their codename was Nightlock, they were basically a group of hired hit men. The CIA didn't use them to take you out, Rose. I think Douru was using them as a kind of double-decoy."

"To cover his tracks, Jill said, nodding. Makes perfect sense, the guy has major paranoia."

"Right. Nightlock, I repeated, and was promptly shushed. Did you run checks on them?" Cal nodded, his eyes alive with excitement.

"Yeah, I did. Those Nightlock guys weren't entirely unconnected with the CIA or other organizations. They have links to a sub-organization within the CIA that's planning to get a nuclear monopoly on the countries of the world. Their name is the Strigori."

"What does that have to do with me? I asked. Then I gasped. Oh my god, I get it. The same people that set me up must have used Nightlock and Douru, thus they were a part of the Strigori. So the people I've been killing-"

"Are high profile members of said organization, Jill finished quietly. Exactly, Rose."

"Have you heard about the Benefactor?" I asked lowly. Both nodded. What do you make of it?" Cal shrugged.

"Maybe a whistleblowing organization. Maybe working for one of those smaller countries. Maybe just some guy who's pulling your chain. Possibilities are endless, really. "

"I have to go back, I breathed. I have to find out who Douru was working for, and which of them were working for the Strigori."

"You don't, Cal said. You could disappear, Rose. You could slip away, we'd help you." Both looked at me earnestly, I shook my head.

"No, I can't. I'm going to bust this whole thing open and expose them as traitors. "

"It could cost you your life," Cal growled.

"Then so be it, I hissed. I won't die a traitor." I smiled grimly. "Plus, who are they to play at freaking god with nuclear weapons? It needs to stop." Jill smiled at Cal triumphantly.

"See, I told you she was smart," she told him. Her eyes twinkled as she regarded me.

"I agree, Rose, and I and Cal will help out however we can. It's time the bad eggs in the CIA get taken down a peg or two."

* * *

**Okay, so! Rose is in Baia, I'm sure that may cause a few issues in the near future with Dimitri! In the meantime, the introduction of the Strigoi, and Jill, and Mason's brother…HOPEFULLY I shall be revealing just who Douru was working for in the next chapters! Until then, REVIEW!**

**Em xx**


	12. Chapter 12: The First Mistake

**Here's the next chapter, we're leading up to the big ones now! Hope you all enjoy, please leave me a review ;)**

* * *

"I miss you too," I told Dimitri, smiling as I flopped on the bed.

"You sound tired," he told me, sounding concerned. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm fine."

"Sure, Roza," he laughed, seeing through me like an expert. A little tingle shot up my backbone.

"Do you know how much I love it when you call me that?" He chuckled-and even over the phone, the rich, throaty sound was enough to make me want to do extremely uncivilized things to him, things I was sure we would do when I returned…

"Just so you know, I'm going to be out of town for a conference the weekend you get back," he said, his voice full of apology.

"What!" I groaned. "But-but"

"I know," he said, and I could hear him grimace. "I promise I'll make it up to you," he told me, and I grinned.

"Oh. I like the sound of that."

"Such a pretty girl, such a dirty mind," he admonished.

"Can you blame me? I haven't seen you in, like, a week."

"Four days."

"Six."

"Five," he said, laughing. I groaned.

"Okay, whatever. Just know I'm not happy."

"Really?" He said dryly. "I couldn't tell."

"Ugh. Jerk," I told him. "Hey, I should go, I'll call you tonight," I told him.

"Okay, take care," he told me.

"Love you, Comrade," I said softly. He laughed.

"Love you too, Roza." I sighed as I hung up. Love. _Love_. Wow. It had just slipped from my tongue; it had seemed so very natural to say. I did love him, I realized. I couldn't imagine being with anyone else, ever, he was honestly the best man I'd ever met, and such a caring, funny, smart, gorgeous one. What more could a girl ask for? But I couldn't shake the feeling he didn't know me, not really. He knew the girl I pretended to be, he knew the inch-deep Rose. He'd never be able to handle knowing what I was really like, and it pained me. Suddenly, a message popped up on the screen of my other phone. Immediately I recognized the number as the Benefactor's.

_Get out of Baia. This is an emergency. You must leave Baia and return to NYC tonight. A car is on its way to collect you now. DO NOT WASTE TIME. –B_

I blinked, staring at the message. What kind of emergency? I knew they weren't screwing around, and they only ever contacted me when it was imperative, so I obeyed the message and threw everything into a suitcase, then ran downstairs to speak to Olena, who was-for once-relaxing with a book, a cup of coffee in one hand.

"Olena-I'm terribly sorry, but I have to leave early." A frown creased her forehead.

"Why's that, Rose?" I shook my head.

"Something of a family emergency."

"Serious?" She asked, sounding concerned.

"I'm not sure. I've just found out, and called a taxi."

"Oh, you poor dear," she clucked at me. "Of course, I understand. Such a shame though-you must come back and visit us!" She said brightly. I smiled warmly.

"Thanks, Olena. I'd love to."

"You go get your bag and we'll sort the money out," she told me, shooing me back towards my room as she bustled into the office. As I was walking back through the hall, I stopped to look at a few pictures on a small, cluttered end-table. There were pictures of Viktoria when she was younger, playing with a skinny, brown haired boy I assumed to be her brother. I moved the picture away from the ones behind it, but just as I reached for the next frame, a thin hand grabbed it, knocking into me. Yeva's eyes glimmered as she clutched the picture to her chest.

"Yeva, I'm sorry," I stammered. I-She shook her head, holding up a finger to her lips to tell me to be silent. I did so, and she pulled me into a little alcove.

"Listen to me," she said in a low voice. "I know things, and I know things about you. You are brave, but still naïve. You are foolish, irrational and far too passionate." Her expression softened. "And yet, your heart is good. If you follow it, it will lead you to the right place."

"I don't know what you mean," I said somewhat unconvincingly. She smiled knowingly.

"Just remember, Roza, follow your heart. And remember one more thing. The darkest part of night is always right before a new dawn comes. Do not get lost in the darkness because you cannot see the light," she told me. With a knowing glance, she left the room. I shook my head at her words, trying to dispel the feeling that she wasn't just some crazy old lady-that she actually knew what she was talking about.

I said goodbye to the other Belikov's, and, after paying my bill, a few teary hugs , a promise to return and a 'see you soon' from Jill, I stepped into the black car that had been waiting to take me to the airport. As we pulled out of the driveway, my phone blipped with a new message from the Benefactor.

_Good. It is imperative you tell nobody that you are back in the USA. Tell nobody where you stayed or who you met. Do you understand?_ I rolled my eyes. No kidding, genius.

_I understand_.

I looked out of the rear vision mirror, back at the sign saying 'Belikov Bed and Breakfast.' Suddenly, I got a very cold feeling, suddenly remembering the answer to the question that had been bothering me all week.

_"Did you find out who else is working this?" I asked. _

_"Mason and Eddie. Some guy named Belikov, too. Apparently he's top shit. "_

I shivered. It had to be a coincidence, it just had to be. But suddenly, as I took one last look back at Olena's place, I was very, very glad that I was leaving it, at least for now. I had the strangest feeling that I had unfinished business with them. I had the strangest feeling that sooner or later, I'd be back.

* * *

**DPOV**

I grinned, stepping out of the taxi that had taken me pretty much to the doorstep of my family's home. They had no idea I was coming-and to be fair, I hadn't either until this morning, when Alberta had informed me I was to go to Moscow and look for Douru. I wasn't expected there until Friday, so I'd managed to get a few days to spend with my family. I hadn't seen any of them in nearly two years and I winced as I knocked on the door, wishing I'd remembered to buy earplugs at the airport store. My family was loud. Really, really loud. I heard a clattering of feet inside, and then Vika and my mother argue about who would get the door, Karo chimed in and said something along the lines of that she'd get it if they were going to run around squabbling. I smiled. Karo never changed-sensible and practical, but she had a remarkably low tolerance for bullshit, something she probably inherited from Yeva. The door was flung open and my mother gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

"Dimka!" She screeched, and ran at me, knocking into me with her small but still sizeable frame.

"Mama? Did you say-"My little sister Viktoria paused at the door. I grinned at her.

"Hi, Vik." She squealed and joined the hug, and after much laughter and screaming I managed to convince them not to tear my limbs off so I could get to my other family members. My mother mock-scowled at me.

"You couldn't give me five minutes warning, boy?"

"Sorry, Mama," I said, shaking my head. "I only-" She shook her head at me.

"Oh, never mind. I am just so glad to have you home, she said warmly. Come, come, sit down, you must be hungry." I rolled my eyes at Karo as I sat. Our mother assumed food was the best remedy anyone could give you, and for that reason, she strongly disliked and doctors. Although, I thought, as I remembered how magical her cooking was, it probably was as good as any medicine.

That night was filled with laughter and revelations as we caught up on each-other's news and talked about what had been happening around Baia for the two years I had been away. Vika asked question after question about what it was like to live in America. I loved living in New York, I really did, but Baia would always be my home.

The next day, after getting up early and going for a run down some of my favorite old countryside roads, I spent the morning helping Mama with the accounts for all the guests. We were nearly finished-it seemed like they had had a steady season-when we reached the last page where only one name was written-a name that was, by now, capable of turning my blood to ice.

_Rose Hathaway. _

"Mama, who is this?" I asked, pointing at the name and trying to keep my panic under control. She smiled.

"Rosemarie Hathaway. A young girl, maybe just younger than you. She was here on business from New York." She peered worriedly at me. "You're pale. Why? Something wrong?"

"What did she look like?" I managed. Mama frowned.

"Well, she had long, dark hair, and was about Viktoria's height. Brown eyes. Very pretty," she added as an afterthought.

"Did she look like this?" I asked, pulling a photo of Rosemarie Hathaway I had filched from St Vladimir's school records. My mother frowned.

"No. Dimka, that girl has red hair, and green eyes. But the face"…She paused, squinting. "Yes, in fact, that does look like her. A younger version. Why, do you know her?"

"Not yet," I muttered. "Did she give you any contact details?" Olena shook her head.

"No, and she paid in cash. Dimka, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I told her. "I promise." She looked at me doubtfully.

"Very well, I shan't push you."

"Thank you," I told her, squeezing her shoulder. "I just have to make a call." Quickly I went upstairs, up into my old bedroom, pulling out my phone to dial Eddie's number.

"Belikov, you asshole. It's like two am here," he groaned.

"Rose was in Russia," I said abruptly.

"Whoa, when? Hang on, I'mma wake Mason." There was a bit of banging and thumping and more than a few curse words before Mason's voice appeared on speakerphone.

"If you're drunk on all that trippy Russian vodka and you're doing drunken calls, I am going to chop your balls off," Mason growled. I ignored that.

"Rose Hathaway was in Russia two days ago."

"How do you know?" Mason asked, sounding surprised.

"Because she stayed four five nights at my family's bed and breakfast," I hissed.

"Oh, shit," Eddie breathed. "So she knows about you."

"And she knows about my family," I growled, a surge of anger coursing through me. "Ed, tell Alberta and Mikhail I want a team on my family, from tonight. Three special forces, minimum."

"Gotcha," he grumbled. "Listen, do you really think she came to Baia for your family especially? Maybe you should have a look around." I shook my head.

"No. She came to threaten me."

"Why wouldn't she kill them?" Mason said, rather reasonably.

"Because it's a warning. A warning to me, to us, that if we don't back off, the shit's gonna hit the fan." There was a heavy silence before Eddie spoke again.

"I'll get that team, he told me."

"Thanks," I said, grateful beyond description. "For the time being, I guess we ought to assume she's back in America, but I'll tell the people over here to keep a watch if her name pops up."

"Sounds good. Goodnight," Mason said, still sounding groggy, and we ended the call. I gritted my teeth overcome with anger, and guilt, and fear for a few minutes. Then, a triumphant smile grew on my face. Rosemarie Hathaway had just made her first mistake. Coming anywhere near my family had been a bad, bad move.

It would be one of her last.

* * *

**So! Nothing like an angry Dimitri to make things a little more confusing! I promise to UD before the weekend is over, but in the meantime, please leave me a review!**

**Em xx**


	13. Chapter 13: Son of a Bitch!

**!PLEASE READ. VERY SUPER IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE!**

**Okay, so. Just wanted to clear a few things up. As stated in the story blurb, Rose is going by the name Rose Hathaway, that's what **

**her friends ect know her as. BUT to avoid being tracked, she signs important things Rose ****_Mazur_****, because she knows the name **

**Hathaway would allow the CIA to track her. HOWEVER- upon being in Russia, she accidentally signs "Hathaway" instead of "Mazur" **

**on her bill-and when Dimitri arrives the shit hits the fan. So, Dimitri knows Rose MAZUR was in Moscow, but he also knows Rose **

**HATHAWAY was in Baia. Keeping in mind Rose only knows Dimitri as TURGENEV (although that is due to change extremely soon, I **

**promise) So hopefully now everyone is on the same page, enjoy!**

* * *

Usually, I find New York romantic in the rain. But today, cooped up indoors curled in my comforter, it was just irritating. I sighed as I flung a stack of school papers to the floor, watching the white pages float gently in the air before coming back down to rest on the wine colored rug. I had spent all of yesterday getting over my jet lag and unpacking, waiting to hear from the Benefactor. All I received that day was a repeated message to lie low, without any kind of justification. I shivered. This was the pointy end of things now. There was no turning back, I'd known that from the start, and I didn't want to. I just wasn't looking forwards to the altercation. A knock at my door nearly made me jump out of my skin.

"Who is it?" I called.

"Me, Miss Rose," said the young Spanish girl, Anita, who worked at reception. I frowned, throwing on a robe over my pajamas, and swung the door open. Sure enough, the twenty-year old was clad in her uniform, holding a pure white envelope addressed to a Miss Rose Hathaway. The intricate, beautiful black writing made my heart lurch.

"This letter…I would have put it in your letterbox, but there were instructions saying explicitly it must be hand delivered to you." I accepted it, putting twenty bucks into her hand.

"Who gave you this?" She hesitated.

"I was on my lunch break. It was at the desk when I came back." Rolling my eyes, I produced another twenty. It was incredible what people saw once you doled out enough of the stuff.

"I…I saw somebody wearing a long black coat as I returned to the desk. I only saw their back. I called out after them, asked if I could help them, but they left without a word and got into a fancy black car parked out front."

"Male or female?" I asked eagerly. She shook her head.

"I'm real sorry, Rose, I don't know. They were tall, taller than you, maybe five-nine or six foot. Real thin, as well," she added. "The coat went all the way down to the ground, it hid everything." I nodded in defeat. I should have known the Benefactor would make it near-impossible for me to find out their identity.

"Okay. Thanks anyway, Anita. You have a good day," I told her, and swung the door shut, and then locked it twice. The envelope was heavy, and weighed with apprehension, I took it to my room and ripped it open. A stack of papers were clipped with a black paperclip, but a handwritten note was on top of them.

_Rose-_

_On behalf of my superiors and myself, I must first congratulate you. Very few would have the patience necessary to prove yourself, but finally, your patience will have paid off. Due to your quick following of instructions and faith in me and my organization, it is now possible for me to reveal exactly whose name was hidden from you when I first contacted you nearly three months ago. What I am now about to reveal to you is, you will appreciate, of a clearance level so high it breaches national and international security. If found out, I and my people shall be charged with treason and you may full well imagine what will happen to you. Yet the risk is, we believe, worth it. You have proved yourself capable, and for this, we must reward you. _

_Rose, you are very much familiar with the person who betrayed you-the person who framed you. It was, of course, for interests of their own-their involvement in a secret organization you were coming far too close to discovering. _

_His name? Victor Dashkov. His motivation? You are now familiar with the group called Strigori. He was a member of the former, and by getting so close to Douru, you also became close to him and his plans to steal important information from the Strigori. By removing people within or close to the Strigori over the past months, you have been removing some of those close to him, meaning he will be trying to find you. Be assured- we have laid false trails for him to follow leading back to Europe, trails which both he and Detective Belikov are hotly pursuing at the moment. _

_It is believed by my people that Victor is still a member of the Strigori, but now a covert one with plans to steal the nuclear plans for his own uses. Rose, he must be stopped, and his time will come, with collaboration from both you, me and the good still left within the CIA. It is imperative that you do not act rashly, no matter how much this information angers you. Have just a fraction more patience. Do not confront the CIA, as there are still those sympathetic to Dashkov within the organization. _

_It strikes me as possible you may be wondering who, in fact, I am. For that question I can have no answer for you, but I repeat once again my warning- that both your friends and your enemies are much closer than you might imagine. _

_Tread carefully,_

_-B_

I sat back into my pillows in shock. Victor Dashkov. _Dashkov_. He had worked for the CIA whilst I had been at school. My benefactor was right-I had known him. Once upon a time, he had been my mentor, and a well-respected member of the CIA community, a real upstanding citizen. He had left the agency the year after I graduated and pretty much fell off the map-I guessed he'd had a falling out with the CIA about his involvement in the Strigori. I wondered if Eddie and Mason, if Alberta and Mikhail knew he'd been so heavily involved in me getting too close to discovering his secret plan to steal information, presumably about the nuclear plans. I rubbed my eyes. It was so much to comprehend. Almost too much, in fact. I had looked into Dashkov briefly about two years ago, but had never had any evidence to support that he had been involved. I quickly dialed a familiar number, and Christian picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"It was Dashkov," I said, trying and failing to keep the rage out of my voice. "All this time, Chris, it was Victor freaking Dashkov." He whistled.

"Seriously? Wow. What a slimeball."

"Slimeball?" I echoed, my voice quivering. "He ruined my life, Ozera! He took away my family, my friends, my future-"

"Rose, calm down," he instructed me. "Don't get hysterical. Yes, he did all of that, and yes, the son of a bitch deserves to be ripped apart by angry beavers, but just answer me this-why?" Quickly I told him about it- about the Strigori, about the nuclear plans and how close I had come to discovering them. I told him how Nightlock was a decoy, and Douru was a pawn to distract me.

"God, all smoke and fucking mirrors, huh," Christian sighed. "Look, Rose, you can't confront the CIA just yet. I know you want to, but it'll do more harm than good." I sighed, extremely frustrated, but knowing that he was right.

"Fine, whatever. Did you get that info on Belikov?"

"Yeah. You might have just met your match, Rosie Posie."

"Call me that again and I will neuter you, Pyro," I growled. "What's his deal?"

"Belikov, first name Dimitri. Twenty-six years old, from Baia. I've confirmed that link to Olena Belikov, she's his mom."

"God, what were the chances," I groaned.

"In the Rose-Hathaway Universe, unavoidable. In the real universe, impossible."

"I swear to god, catastrophe makes a conscious effort to find me." He snickered.

"Doesn't help you dance around waving a sign chanting "come and get me." I rolled my eyes, hating that he was able to lighten my mood when I was so in the mood to be a total bitch.

"Just give me his basics."

"Far's I can tell from his stats-no picture, typically-the guy's a machine. He's ex-military, was in the SAS for a few years before he transferred to the European Secret Service, worked his way up and now does cases in conjunction with our CIA. About six-foot-seven, built like a tank. You're going to have serious issues if you come across him, Rose."

"If? More like when," I mumbled. "Oh well, it's about time they sent somebody half-qualified to handle me. It should be fun." I had a sick sense of 'fun', I mused.

"Rose, when you stayed there… in Baia…you signed as Mazur, didn't you?" Christian checked. I frowned.

"Hell, I can't remember…I think so," I said doubtfully.

"If you didn't that might be a problem. No, not a problem. It would be the Hathaway version of fucking Watergate."

"Au contraire," I snapped. "The guy's in the US, he has no clue what's going on back in Baia."

"Hmmn," Christian said curtly. "I guess you're right. Hopefully you weren't stupid enough to sign Hathaway." I scoffed.

"Even you know I'm not that irresponsible." _Fuck. I had done it, I knew I had._ I could remember writing it on the sheet. He sighed.

"You did, didn't you?" I groaned, hating how he could see through me.

"God, I totally did. Please don't tell me I'm an asshole, I already know. "

"You're an ass," he informed me. "Are you making a concerted effort to get yourself killed? Because if not, you coulda fooled me."

"Okay. I get it," I snapped. "Change of subject, or end of conversation. I'm not picky."

"I got a lead on the Benefactor." I sat up straight.

"Oh?"

"I was reading about this organization known as the Guardians. They're a group of whistleblowers against the agencies of the world withholding nuclear technology. Very underground stuff."

"Yeah, I've heard of them," I said, in awe. "They're the stuff of legends. Mason did a project on them in tenth grade. He got, like, a D."

"Only because he spent most of that year either drunk or getting drunk," Christian said amusedly. I snickered.

"Point is, they're dangerous, and if your Benefactor is one of them, they are definitely an ally worth having. Don't piss them off," he advised me.

"No clue on who the specific person could be?" I asked.

"You don't even know there is a specific person. The Benefactor could be the whole organization, collectively."

"No," I shook my head. "No, it's definitely one person carrying out this on behalf of some organization. The guardians is a good, solid guess, Chris, so thanks." He sighed.

"You're getting tired, aren't you?"

"I'm exhausted," I confessed. "Of lying to Lissa and the girls, of lying to Dimitri."

"I know, me too," he said gently. "But you gotta remember, we aren't the bad guys, here. It's going to end soon, Rose."

"Yeah," I whispered. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

_"Oi, Douru, Open the door!" I yelled. "This is the CIA!" After it wasn't, I kicked it open, running through the crummy old house in hot pursuit of his shadow. I ended up on the top floor, and he opened out onto the roof, sprinting for the edge where I guessed there was a ladder._

_Freeze! I ordered, shooting near his sides. I didn't want to kill him. He was just a drug dealer, albeit the biggest bust in the last ten years, total sidewalk scum, but hey, I was an agent. It was my job to catch these people, not to kill them. He spun, and before I could so much as blink, there was a pain in my shoulder, I stumbled to the ground. Another devastating pain in my leg, crippling me as my gun clattered from my reach. With a smug smile, he emptied his pockets of cocaine and other drugs, placing them around me, as well as a white envelope of money. I heard clattering, and realized there were others on the roof by now. _

_"Nice doing business with you, Rose Hathaway," Douru told me with a smile. "I didn't pick you as the type to be a mole." _

_"What?" I gasped. He winked at me, and just as I managed to get up and try to chase him I was tackled to the ground with a cry, and when my vision cleared of pain I realized it was a furious Eddie, one hand on my throat, the other with a weapon aimed at my forehead. _

_"Ed?" I ventured, my voice so quiet, so vulnerable and choked, even to me._

_"You're under arrest," he spat, and hauled me to my feet. By then, Douru was gone. His face had been replaced by those I loved-Mason's, Alberta's, my boss's, even my mother's. All grief stricken, angry, betrayed. _

_"No", I breathed, before I blacked out. _

I woke with a start, that same word on my lips. The memories of that day had come back to haunt me tonight, but now, I could put a name, a voice to the faceless manipulator that had destroyed my life. I glanced at the clock, it was only early. About dusk, my favorite time of day. I knew what I had to do. I now knew how it had happened, how I had been framed. I had to find out why they'd let it go on for so long. I hesitated. If I did this, it would be going against the Benefactor. It would be going against Christian, and my better judgment. But then I shrugged, pulling on my pair of combat boots. I would be careful, like I always was. There was no way I would get caught. So I slipped down the back exit, aware the Benefactor might have people watching me. I made it to my car without confrontation, so warily, I started the engine. I smirked as I pulled out of the parking lot. Time to take a drive.

* * *

The white marble mansion looked like something out of a Grecian royal family, which was hardly surprising seeing as its owner was well on the Forbes list of billionaires. There were no security guards, she was careless, not to mention arrogant. I parked my car across the block and walked boldly through the open gate, picking a lock that lead from the perfectly-manicured garden into the house's laundry. It was stylish, slick and expensive, much like its owner. My heart pounded as I walked towards the office. I had been here once before, albeit under very different circumstances, so I knew the place. I wasn't going to kill her, I could never do that. I just needed answers.

"Rosemarie," said a calm, beautifully sophisticated voice from the office, making me start.

"I'm in here, dear." I stepped into the large office to see her smiling at me. As usual, she looked regal-her majestic yet graying hair swept up into an elaborate up do threaded with pearls, wearing a dress suit that I could without hesitation say was worth more than a year's salary at my teaching job. She closed a computer so state-of-the art the President probably didn't have one in its league, and smiled at me, her sharp green eyes analyzing me.

"Hello, Tatiana," I said coldly.

"Do take a seat."

"I'm fine." She arched an eyebrow.

"Here to kill me, are we, Rose?" There was a heavy silence. We both knew I wouldn't do that, she was too connected to my mother, and to my friends. I would jeopardize them by killing her, and besides, I didn't need to.

"Not exactly," I said coldly. "I'm just on a tight schedule."

"Very well. What seems to be the problem? I haven't seen you for years." Her voice was perfectly pleasant, as if she was speaking to an old friend. She was one sick SOB.

"How much did you know?" I gritted. "About who framed me." She chuckled lightly.

"All there is to know, dearie."

"Firstly," I spat. "Call me dearie ever again and I will change my mind about killing you. Secondly, you'd better elaborate, or my first threat applies." She laughed, but continued.

"Very well. Yes, Rose, I knew Victor was going to set you up, because you got far too close to discovering his own agenda, but he is dead now. You see, we were forced to choose between the lesser of two evils- allowing you to be wrongfully convicted, or having to face Victor Dashkov hell-bent on holding the world to ransom because of stolen nuclear plans."

"What about after I was gone? What happened?" She shrugged.

"The situation took care of itself. Victor was disposed of, as was Douru. The plans remained in their rightful hands and we were none too concerned with what you did." She frowned. "Until you began killing people. People involved in the Strigori, people certain powerful underground organizations also want dead. It was too much of a coincidence. I always knew it was you, but others were not so convinced. They thought you were not capable of turning against those you knew." She cocked an eyebrow. "I was impressed, I must admit." She leaned forwards in her chair, her eyes earnest.

"You must understand, Rose. We had no choice. Victor was far too powerful to defy. Even the CIA is not invincible."

"You had a choice," I growled. "And you chose to frame an innocent as a mole instead of catch a real traitor. And newsflash, Tatiana, neither of them are dead," I hissed. "You've got one hell of a problem, and this time, I'm not going to be your scapegoat. This time I'm going to expose you for what you are. So thanks for the information, but I'll be leaving now."

"Oh no you won't," she said calmly, drawing a pistol from her suit pocket. "No, you'll be staying right here, Rose, and you'll be waiting for the police. The perimeter is already secure."

* * *

I stood looking at her for a minute before I ran. I ran to the front door to find it locked, and then smashed my foot through one of the expensive stained glass panels, just managing to squeeze myself through as glass shards stuck in my skin. Bullets skirted at my feet and I aimed some back, seeing the gates to the property, at least ten foot high, swing shut, and a security guard locked and bolted them. Tatiana followed me out of the makeshift door, laughing.

"Well, well. II expected nothing less from you, former agent. Unfortunately, you have been outmaneuvered." I heard a weapon click behind me at my temple, it was the guard.

"Hands," she told me coldly, all pretense of niceties gone. "Anything funny and I promise, he will shoot you." I raised my hands slowly, my heart hammering. My gun was taken from my belt and I was searched thoroughly.

"I'm going to tell them," I hissed as my hands were tied behind my back. "You are not going to get away with this, Tatiana." She laughed.

"Oh, but I did once, Rose. You know," she said conversationally, stepping closer to me. "Just because you weren't prepared to kill me…Doesn't mean I'm not prepared to kill you," she told me with a small smile. The smile turned vicious.

"In fact, I think I might do that right now," she said, sneering, and rammed the barrel of the weapon behind my chin.

* * *

Suddenly there was a shattering, clanging sound as all three of us turned and a huge black car busted through the gates, headlights blazing. Bullets rained down upon us, all miraculously missing me, and the driver honked on the horn. I looked at the license plate and my heart lurched. The license plate numbers and letters had all been scratched out. A black letter B had been etched on it instead. _Benefactor, _I thought dazedly as I freed my hands and pelted towards the open back door. The second I was inside the car took off amid a hail of bullets at seventy miles an hour, back onto the street. I noticed, after recovering from my shock, that it was kind of like an expensive limousine-there was a black screen separating driver from backseat.

"Thank-thank you," I gasped. There was no reply, so I tapped on the plastic. "Um, hi. Thank you. Are you pissed at me?" A mechanical voice spoke through the speaker, it was a high-quality voice scrambler.

"Yes, that is a fair call. However, your intentions were good, and thus you are forgiven."

"Um, thanks," I said awkwardly.

"Don't let it happen again," the alien voice informed me.

"Any chance you can tell me who you are?" I asked. There was no reply. "No? Not even a first name, so I can thank you properly?" Still there was no reply, and the car stopped at what I recognized as the corner of central park.

"I'll be in touch," the robot voice said, and the car door opened.

"Look, thank y-"

"Just go, Rosemarie." The voice sounded exasperated, if aliens could be exasperated. "Go, before you are seen." With one last frustrated look at where the mystery driver sat, I got out of the car. The windows were heavily tinted, which was understandable, but even so, my only glimpse of the person who had saved my life was of a tall figure clad in a long, black coat, disappearing facelessly into the night.

* * *

**Wow! So it might take a while for y'all to get your heads around all of that, it certainly took me a while! I'm so enjoying Rose being **

**frustrated and not knowing who the Benefactor is…**cue evil laugh** This story is now getting quicker and closer to the end as **

**things are heating up. According to the rough draft I have outlined, there are about seven chapters + an epilogue left, after which **

**I'm considering a sequel, but I'll ask y'all your opinion on that at a later date. It might take me a while to write the next few chapters **

**as the Dimitri/Rose collision draws ever nearer! Anyways, please review! Next chapter mid-way through next week ;)**

**Em xx**


	14. Chapter 14: Bohemian Murder

**As promised, here's a mid-week update! Luckily for you guys, the chapters will now start gaining pace as I REALLY need to finish both of my stories before December. I'm going away over Christmas which means I won't have access to my laptop and I don't want to leave y'all hanging for a long time, especially when I've had so many lovely reviews :**)

* * *

"Come back when you can sing," the club manger advised us as we were escorted out of the club by the bouncers. As we were shooed away, Mia clung onto the bouncer's arm and started baby-talking to the tattoo on his bicep. Before he could react, Sydney and I grabbed Mia and dragger her unceremoniously away from the glowering guy. Apparently, Mia had had a really, really shitty week, and so, like all good friends, we had obliged and taken her out on Friday night. We'd been doing the clubs since about five, it was now getting on to one in the morning, and Lissa and Mia were very, very drunk. Even by my standards. We'd been kicked out when Mia stood up on a pool table (allowing a few people to see up her skirt) and commenced a very out of tune rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody, complete with a dance routine. I winced at the memory. Mia was a talented girl, but her talents did not stretch to encompass singing.

"Where next?" Sydney asked.

"That one!" Lissa cried, pointing a finger across the street. Mia was too busy singing parts of Bohemian Rhapsody to perturbed onlookers, but Sydney and I followed Lissa's line of sight and raised our eyebrows.

"That's a taxi, Liss," Sydney muttered, and I snickered. Sydney and I were sober-ish because we both had to be up early tomorrow-me to have breakfast with my Dad, Sydney to work. Suddenly my phone buzzed in my pocket, it was a message from Christian.

_Rose-Dashkov's onto you. He's got a tail following you from about a block away, but they're stuck in traffic. Get the hell out of there while you've got the chance._ Heart pounding, I instinctively glanced over my shoulder.

"I think we should take them home," I said to Sydney in an undertone. Her sharp eyes looked around, clearly analyzing my shifty behavior.

"Why? Something not right?" She asked.

"I didn't like the look of those guys," I said, nodding to a group beckoning to us. She nodded, decision in her eyes.

"You're right. C'mon, I'll take Mia home. You get Lissa back to her apartment." She smiled impishly at me. "If you convince her the taxi is the club she wanted to go to, you shouldn't have too many issues." We agreed, and I found that Lissa was quite easy to get into the taxi. Mia, on the other hand, tried to kiss Sydney full on the lips and called her 'Joe'. Sydney rolled her eyes at me and waved as she got into another taxi with Mia, who was now warbling '_What about me'_ at full volume. Bundling Lissa into her apartment I pondered the idea of staying with her for the night, then decided against it. If I still did have that tail, I didn't want it to lead to her.

"Night, Liss," I whispered, switching her light out and placing two aspirin and a glass of water on her bedside table.

"Ni'Rose," she mumbled, and then zonked. I took the back exit out of her apartment and walked the block back to mine. Before I could get there, I received another message, this one from the Benefactor.

_Get to your place downtown. We'll talk then. _My stomach flipped with the idea of actually meeting my Benefactor, and took the next street to the left, then looping back the way I had come towards my other apartment. I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone on the street was watching me, analyzing me-that they knew who I was and what I was doing they were just waiting for the right moment. The benefactor was faceless, nameless, they could be anywhere. They could pass me on the street and I wouldn't even have a clue. The same went for Belikov, whoever the hell he was. Despite my best efforts, my searches had pulled up nothing on him. He, too, remained faceless. I unlocked my apartment, quickly stepping inside. Almost the second after I had locked the door and set my bag down, my phone lit up and I shivered. They were watching me. Closely. I glanced at the message.

_Your tail has been taken care of._

_Thank you. Where are you?_ A short time later, a reply came through.

_You didn't actually think I was coming in person, did you? ;) _

"Well, fuck me," I muttered. Hell has officially frozen over. This weirdo is using _emoticons_. Suddenly the phone buzzed with an incoming call, and my heart leapt when I saw it was them.

"Hello?"

"Robert Doru is in New York for the night. He is downtown," the mechanical voice said. "You have a window that will close tonight at two am." I glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes.

"So?"

"Do what you must." The answer was typically cryptic, but I understood. I hoped. "Be aware that it is possible Belikov is also onto Doru."

"Why can't you tell me who you are?" I asked desperately. There was a pause, and the line went dead. Muttering curses, I changed outfits and loaded my gun, strapping one to my thigh and putting the other in my pocket. _Downtown, huh?_ I thought. Well, I had a pretty good guess of where he would be.

* * *

I started my search in what was known as the blue-light precinct, the intermediate district. It was where most of the money was, and as I'd been taught, always follow the trail of money. With no time to spare and no leads I moved into the red light district. Almost immediately I saw a familiar face. It was Antonio Perez, one of the underlings from the drug bust. He'd been Doru's right had man, but he'd gotten away with his crimes. My heart froze when he approached me, a smile on his face.

"How much?" He asked me, eyeing me up and down. Oh. So he thought I was a prostitute. Wasn't exactly what I was going for, but hey, I could make it work. I sneered at him.

"Too much for you to afford." I smirked, stepping closer to him.

"You know a guy called Doru?" He frowned, but tried to shrug it off.

"Depends."

"On?" His smile widened, a mouth of gold capped teeth on full display.

"How much you charge." I batted my eyelashes, smiling seductively.

"You tell me where I can find him, and I'll waive the fee."

"What's your business with him?" He asked, half-frowning. I shrugged complacently.

"I heard he's a dealer."

"The best," he agreed. "He's also a very dangerous man." I smirked.

"Good thing I like that. Where can I find him?"

"He's about a block away," he told me. "I saw him on Kieran Street about five minutes ago. He's only in the city for tonight. You got lucky, little lady." I smiled, leading him down an alley.

"So, my friend, did you." I never gave him a chance to reply. I put two bullets in the back of his skull and he fell to the ground. Quietly, I walked away, climbing the alleyway wall and over into the next street. My phone buzzed.

_Fifteen minutes. Very impressive_. I smirked, snapping it shut, and made my way to the dodgy end of Kieran Street. I scanned the broad street, filled with clubs, smoke, dealers and prostitutes. I knew Doru wasn't the mastermind, that was Dashkov. I wouldn't be surprised if he was here simply as a part of a new drug ring. Bad move. Incredibly bad move. I scanned the street, following the trail of money. He'd be easy to pick out, he'd be talking to the drug kings. But where were they? I felt my phone buzz again.

_Eleven o'clock_. I cast my eyes in front of me, slightly to the left, and then picked out a familiar shadow talking to a huge, imposing man with jewels on his fingers. They shook hands and then Doru walked quickly to the left. I crossed the road with a bunch of others, inconspicuously tailing him. He was heading towards the downtown area of the Park. Good god, why was everything happening in the park these days? Maybe he had another deal in there-I knew fully well what kind of stuff went on in there at this time of night. I fell into step with him, following at a distance of about ten meters.

Then, I decided for a slightly more risky plan, but it would satisfy my dramatic side, so I went with it. I took a shortcut through the park and began walking towards him. A bend in the path was coming up and I waited behind it, gauging exactly when he would appear. When he emerged, I was standing in the middle of the path. His eyes widened and I got the chance to study him fully. He looked older, he had put on a bit of weight, but he was as smartly dressed as I had remembered him. He'd also grown a beard, but it couldn't hide is snide, cunning mouth, just as the glasses didn't disguise shrewd, manipulative eyes.

"Rose," he whispered. "Rose…marie."

"Surprise," I deadpanned, and, grabbing his arm and placing my weapon at his temple, dragged him to a spot in the park where it was more covered. It was over the river, with a bridge overhead, so I doubted we'd be seen. Now, it was my plan to play dumb. To demand to know why he had done this. Of course, I knew perfectly well, but to clear my name, it was imperative I got a confession out of the slimeball.

"Who did this?" I snarled. "Who were you working for?" He was shaking by now-his whole body trembling with fear.

"V-Victor Dashkov," he stammered. "He paid me to do it. He needed you set up, you would have discovered what he was doing." I smiled viciously.

"And tell me, what exactly was he doing?" I hissed.

"Stealing nuclear plans," Doru whispered. "Or trying to. There was a group of them doing it-"

"Who?" I hissed. He proceeded to name almost every person I had killed in the past, and when he had finished, he was sweating profusely.

"Rose-I wasn't the person who wanted you outta the way. I just got paid to do it," he told me. I smiled sweetly.

"And you're prepared to testify to that?" I asked.

"Yes," he mumbled. I grinned widely, twirling the voice recorder in my hands.

"Excellent. Y'see, I don't need you. I don't even need to kill you. I just needed exactly what you just told me, and once you're caught by the CIA, they'll do to you exactly what you deserve." I smirked.

"Nice doing business with you, Robert Doru," I quipped, imitating what he had said to me on the day he had taken my job my family and friends away. "Never picked you as the type to rat someone out." His eyes widened and he looked absolutely terrified, realizing what he had done.

Before he or I could move, something happened very quickly. Or rather, two things happened very quickly.

Mason and Eddie stepped out of the shadows, their weapons aimed at me.

"Evening, all," Eddie quipped. "Out for an early morning stroll?" I glowered at Eddie, my former best friend, my own hand tightening around my weapon.

"Yeah. Something like that. Long time no see, Castile. Hi, Mase," I added brightly. Before he had the chance to reply a hail of bullets ripped through the air. All three of us ducked, bullets nearly missing me and Mason as Doru took off.

"Son-of-a-bitch," I gasped as all three of us, somehow weirdly reunited, chased after him. Mason sprinted a few steps ahead, then stopped dead, nearly causing me to crash into him. Turning sharply, he pointed his weapon directly at my heart. Eddie skidded up behind me, effectively cutting me off.

"You are under arrest," Mason told me curtly. "You have the right to remain silent. You have-"

"Mase, don't," I said wearily." We all know you suck at reading people the Miranda. In ninth grade, Alberta made you stand up in front of everyone in your underwear and say it a hundred times." Mason looked slightly crestfallen, remembering the memory that had seen Eddie and I rolling around on the floor dying in laughter.

"Hey, where's Belikov?" I asked obnoxiously as Eddie took my gun. "Too busy eating doughnuts?" Mason snickered at this, but received a shut-up-now glare from Eddie. I shifted my weight, preparing to try and beat the hell out of them both. It didn't seem like it was going to go well as they both cleared six foot, but hey, I'll try anything. Before I got a chance to, two shots rang out, making us all flinch. Eddie yelled, and collapsed, a dark red mark in his shoulder, and another in his leg.

"What the hell just happened?" Mason yelled. "You shot him? How could you, Rose, you-"

"I didn't, you moron, he's still got my gun in his hand!" I howled back.

"Jesus Christ, both of you just stop arguing and help," Eddie hissed. Mason and I glanced up onto the bridge to see a tall, black figure disappearing. _The Benefactor had shot Eddie._ Not anything nearly enough to kill him, he would be fine, but just enough to allow me to escape. Mason had used his jacket to stem the bleeding in Eddie's shoulder. Eddie managed to stand up, but promptly fell right back down on his ass. Mason faced me, a pained look in his eyes.

"Come on, Mase," I said softly. "We both know you aren't going to shoot me. Just like I'm not gonna shoot you. Go home, boys. You have no idea what you're dealing with." Eddie's face contorted in anger.

"A murderer?" He spat. I wasn't going to lie, that hurt, but I knew that from his perspective, that's what I looked like.

"You have no fucking idea what you're talking about," I snarled. I knelt down beside him, taking the voice recorder and tucking it into his waistband.

"Maybe that'll help explain things." He gritted his teeth.

"We're going to find you, Rose," he hissed." New York's not big enough to hide you. And when we do find you, somebody's going to get hurt."

"Big words for a guy sitting on the sidewalk with two bullets in his body," I deadpanned, and Mason just covered a snort in time. I leaned down, my lips nearly touching Eddie's ear.

"You be careful, Castile. You're not the only one walking 'round with a loaded gun." I patted his shoulder, and stood, blowing both of them a kiss as I stalked away into the night, my heart still pounding.

* * *

If you didn't count a few attempts to solicit me as a prostitute and numerous others to sell me crack, I made it back to my home-the real one- uneventfully, splashing my face with shaky hands. A lot had happened tonight, and it proved that sooner or later, there would be a real confrontation. And Eddie was right. Somebody was going to get hurt, big time. I changed into my pajamas, and clearly too wound up to sleep, curled up in bed thinking about Mason and Eddie. I loved them so, so dearly, they were more than brothers to me. I couldn't blame them for how they felt, they honestly did think that's the way it had happened, and Tatiana had probably fed them and everyone else a big fat lie about what I was doing and why. But that would all change soon-they had the voice recording, and once that happened, it was only a matter of time before they had Doru, as well. A very small, very naïve part of me was trying very hard to convince me that everything was going to work out just swimmingly. I highly, highly doubted it. My phone's loud ringtone shook me out of my thoughts.

Rose, it's me.

"Christian? Shouldn't you be getting your beauty sleep?" I asked, somewhat cattily. He disregarded this.

"Rose…I just got the word. Doru jumped."

"What?" I asked, confusedly. He sighed tiredly.

"I sure hope that voice recording worked out. He killed himself, Rose."

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**UH OH! This was a big chapter, it took me ages to write so I'd love some reviews! The next chapter is going to be another DPOV…Poor Dimitri, he's been somewhat neglected for a while. Next chapter sometime soon!**

**Em xx**


	15. Chapter 15: She's my Girlfriend?

**As promised, this chapter takes place from the perspective of our favorite Russian detective…Enjoy!**

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** DPOV**

"Ass," I muttered, as I drove to the hospital. "Why the hell didn't you go after the black coat?"

"Because that would mean leaving one very pissed Eddie bleeding out on the sidewalk, with an equally pissed, and armed, Rose Hathaway," Mason replied. I rolled my eyes. True. Very true. The ambulance had taken Ed from central park to the hospital, and Mason and I had gone to see the police. I was still kicking myself for not being there-I'd been caught up in another meeting with the useless New York Detectives. If I had been there, things might have been different.

"Sir, you can't park there," an obnoxious parking officer started.

"Detective Dimitri Belikov, CIA. Bite me," I replied curtly, lengthening my strides. The man faded away, and we went straight in to see Eddie. He was awake, and on our way the doctor informed us he was fine. So fine, in fact, he'd tried to make the IV attached to his arm explode, because apparently he "was bored." When normal people get bored, they do a crossword. When Eddie gets bored, he explodes a room. _Huh._

"Good," he groaned upon seeing us. "Get me the hell out of here."

"Hey, Castile. Nice to see you too," I said dryly. He rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Since when do you play nice?" I shrugged.

"I don't. Mason said she gave you something," I asked. He nodded, handing me a small black voice recorder on the bedside table. I turned the volume up, and Mason locked the door. Then I pressed play.

_"Who did this?"_ A female voice, vaguely familiar-sounding but I was unable to place it due to the average quality. _"Who were you working for?" _

_"V-Victor Dashkov_," a voice stammered. _"He paid me to do it. He needed you set up, you would have discovered what he was doing."_ My eyebrows raised. This was interesting. Mason shoved an elbow into Eddie's ribs, and mouthed a triumphant I told you so.

_"And tell me, what exactly was he doing?" _The voice hissed.

"_Stealing nuclear plans,"_ Doru whispered. "_Or trying to. There was a group of them doing it-"_

_"Who?" _She hissed. He proceeded to name almost every person Rosemarie had killed in the past, leaving Eddie and I openmouthed. Mason looked like he was about to break out into a song and dance routine.

_ "Rose-I wasn't the person who wanted you outta the way. I just got paid to do it,"_ Doru said desperately.

_"And you're prepared to testify to that?"_ Hathaway asked, and her smile was almost audible.

_"Yes,"_ he mumbled.

_"Excellent. Y'see, I don't need you. I don't even need to kill you. I just needed exactly what you just told me, and once you're caught by the CIA, they'll do to you exactly what you deserve."_

_"Nice doing business with you, Robert Doru,"_ she said, rather snidely. _"Never picked you as the type to rat someone out."_ Eddie groaned, putting his face in his hands.

"Wow. Just wow. As if this freak show needed another complication. Damnit, Mase, we got it wrong," he growled. "Why wasn't there an investigation?"

"Tatiana," Mason replied sourly. I nodded.

"He's right. We have to consider the possibility that there are people high up in the CIA whose interests correlated with Dashkov. The man is powerful, nobody would want him as an enemy." Before we could talk about it further, the door was unlocked by a very disgruntled nurse.

"Your friend here needs rest," she told us sharply.

"I'm fine," Eddie said automatically. She scowled.

"Five hours ago, two bullets were removed from your body, Mr. Castile. You are definitely not fine, and will be spending the night here." Eddie groaned, and Mason and I snickered, earning us glared from the nurse.

"Out. Now. Both of you," she said curtly, and, brandishing a broomstick, shooed us from the room.

"What now?" Mason asked. I shrugged.

"Let's go home and sleep. I gotta call Rose," I mumbled, remembering. She'd have been back from her trip for a few days, and I had missed her. Maybe we could have dinner tonight, I thought, and made a mental note to call her when we got home. Mason looked at me amusedly.

"Funny how there's two girls called Rose in your life."

"Wow, no shit, Sherlock," I replied. He shrugged.

"Just make sure you keep them separate." I laughed.

"Roza is a schoolteacher, not a serial killer, thanks very much." Just as we started the car, there was a loud crash as something heavy landed on the bonnet of the car.

"Jesus!" Mason yelled, jumping in his seat.

"What the…" I muttered, realizing it was Eddie who had landed on the car. Wild-eyed, he climbed in the backseat.

"Drive," he panted desperately. Mason and I both took a few seconds to blink and process this.

"You jumped out the window," I stated dryly. "Of a third-story building."

"And?"

"We just left the hospital," Mason said in exasperation. "You wanna go back in there with a broken leg, idiot?" Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, Mase. Next time, we'll leave you at home when we do big-boy stuff." Before Mason could retort, or a full-scale war could break out, the nurse stuck her head out the window and bellowed at him to get his sweet ass back in there. Actually, there were a few more expletives thrown around, but that was the general idea. Eddie went about four shades paler within the space of two seconds, and pressed the car door lock down firmly.

"For the love of god, man, drive," Eddie hissed, and, chuckling, with Mason nearly dying of laughter in the passenger seat, I sped out of the parking lot. _Note to self: When next inevitable injury occurs, take said individual to another hospital,_ I thought wryly. Within a few moments we were back at the flat, and Eddie immediately sprawled on the couch.

"Move," I told him. He shook his head, grinned.

"I'm injured."

"I'll drive you back to hospital, then." Begrudgingly, Eddie sat up and allowed me just enough space to sit down.

"So. We have to find out where she's located," I started.

"Why?" Mason asked quizzically. I sighed.

"Why else? So we can find her and bring her in." Mason stared at me incredulously.

"That's bullshit. We can't arrest her, for what?" I shrugged.

"Murder? Grievous bodily harm? Treason? Take your pick, really."

"It was Dashkov all along," Mason gritted, looking like he wanted to throttle me.

"Mase, if we don't find her, Dashkov will," Eddie said wearily. "If he knows she got to Doru, and got a confession out of him, he'll be baying for her blood."

"It's for the best," I offered. "She'll have a chance to clear her name. That recording is valuable evidence. A full investigation can be undertaken, and if she wins, she'll have a clean record."

"And if she doesn't win, they're going to kill her," Mason said darkly. "Like you said. It there are people still in the Agency who are sympathetic towards Dashkov, they'll have her killed. I won't do it," Mason hissed. "Rose was my best friend. I will not be a part in her death."

"Mase, it sucks, but we don't have a choice," Eddie groaned. "I know it looks like she was innocent, but we have to accept the possibility that she was somehow involved. We'll find her. There are still some good people in the CIA- Alberta, Mikhail, Janie. She's still got some friends," Eddie reminded him. Mason sighed, then shrugged, clearly accepting this, but not liking it in the slightest. My phone started buzzing shrilly, the caller ID informing me that Alberta was calling.

"I got the tape of the recording you sent," she said curtly. "That's going to cause a few red faces, but well done. How did you get it?"

"A five-foot-six Santa gave it to Eddie," I informed her. Alberta cursed.

"Of course she did. Brilliant. And how's Castile? " I glanced at him.

"Tried to explode a room and jumped out of a three-story building. Perfectly fine." Alberta laughed.

"I expected nothing less. But that wasn't why I called." I rolled my eyes. _Quelle surprise._

"The plot thickens?" I offered.

"Yep. Any thicker and we're gonna have cement."

"What happened?"

"Tatiana was murdered," Alberta said grimly. "Found dead about a day ago, just before your confrontation with Rose. It looks bad, guys. A gun with Rose's fingerprints was found at the scene. Your evidence is going to do diddly to help her."

"But it's pretty clear she killed her?" I sighed.

"Crystal. There is no way for her to get out of that one."

"Goddamnit," I groaned, glancing at Mason, who was most definitely not going to be a happy chappy upon hearing this news.

"Fine, Alberta. We're doing our best."

"Do better," she deadpanned, and hung up. Quickly I told the others what had happened, and Mason shook his head determinedly.

"She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't kill her."

"How do you know?" Eddie asked, reasonably enough.

"Rose liked Tatiana. I think someone framed her," Mason said earnestly.

"And got a hold of Rose's fingerprints?" I asked, exasperated. Come on, "Mase. Just admit it. It's probably Rose killed her."

"Probable, but not definite," Mason muttered, tossing me a pad of paper. "Here. I drew a sketch. She's stopped wearing the contacts, and went back to her natural hair color, but otherwise she looks just the same." I frowned, turning the sketch right side up, and then my stomach dropped.

You know that feeling you get when you go on the biggest rollercoaster in the park? Yeah, well multiply it by a hundred, and then you have my reaction. At first, it was pure shock as I stared at the picture for a good two minutes, trying to comprehend the enormity of what I was seeing as familiar eyes stared back at me. It couldn't be. It just simply was not possible.

"Gentlemen, we officially have cement," I mumbled, almost shocked into speechlessness. Eddie and Mason looked at each other in confusion and I winced.

"I-I know who that is. Her name is Mazur, first name Rose." Eddie cursed.

"Well, fuck me. How the hell do you know her?" I paused to swallow hard, my fingers tracing the outline of her sketched but unmistakable face, a face that I knew so, so well.

"She's…She's my girlfriend," I said hoarsely. "My girlfriend is Rose Hathaway."

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**And so the shit hits the fan…Needless to say, there's some serious drama coming up! Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked!**

**Em xx**


	16. Chapter 16: Must Come Down

**So here it is, the moment y'all have been waiting so patiently (or not) for! Rose and Dimitri are finally going to meet each other and there'll be plenty of drama. Please remember to review!**

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"Oh, Goddamnit," I mumbled, stepping off the tiny little bed and stretching my tired muscles. I had spent the night at Rosemarie's place; I hadn't the courage to run home. I sighed, splashing my face with cold water and then regarding my reflection with exasperation. I had to get out of here. I had to get out of the US, get away from everything, find a new place where I could continue everything quietly. In the past few days, I had been considering giving myself in, not because I was afraid, but because Dashkov had to be stopped. This freak show had gone on for far too long, and it had to end.

But I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it. It would make me look guilty, like a traitor, which I wasn't. With or without the CIA, I was going to hunt Dashkov down and stop him from stealing these plans. But first, I needed to go back to my apartment, pack a bag, and write my friends a note. Then, I'd take a taxi to the airport and get the hell out. I glanced at the clock, it was ten in the morning **(AN: This is taking place on the same day Dimitri finds out he knows Rose.)**

My coat drawn tightly around me, I made my way quickly back to my apartment, feeling like a zillion eyes were watching me, analyzing my every move. I got up to my apartment with a terrible sense of foreboding. I opened the door, and the figure standing there made me gasp. Lissa was standing in my apartment, and I groaned.

"Liss, this is not a good time."

"Rose, what is going on?" She asked angrily.

"I can't explain. Liss, you have to get out of here," I begged her. "I have to leave for a while." I threw things in a bag, aware she was following me and talking.

"-and you've been acting strange all week," she complained. I finished throwing stuff in my bag, and, gritting my teeth, pulled out my spare gun from behind the bookshelf. Suddenly, Lissa was silent.

"Rose-is that a gun?" She asked nervously.

"Yes," I hissed, turning to face her. "Listen to me. You are to stay in this apartment for the next twenty minutes, and then you must leave. Trust nobody. Talk to nobody. Use your instincts." Looking very afraid, she caught my arm.

"Rose, I don't understand. What's happening?" She whispered. I looked at her, hating myself, hating that I had to do this to her.

"Liss, I promise, I'll explain later. For now, please just accept that there's some things you don't know about me," I murmured, and gave her a quick hug. After that I was gone, running down the stairs, away from the life I had so meticulously built. My phone beeped, and the one word sent shivers down my spine.

_RUN_

I increased my footsteps, ending up in the parking lot behind the building. My heart stopped when I heard police cruisers scream up around the front of the building, and from the voices I realized the SWAT was probably there as well. Trust Mason and Eddie to make a scene. But how on earth had they found me? I wondered. Oh well. No time for that. I ran down into the underground carpark, trying to navigate the huge, mostly-deserted cement building with so many twists and turns.

That was around about the time when I heard the footsteps, and recognized Eddie's quick whisper. My heart stuck in my throat, I thought the footsteps faded away from me, and began to creep around the corner, my gun in my hand, my heart in my mouth. I paused. Silence. They must have gone. Feeling a little bit relieved, I turned the corner, and got officially the fright of my life. I couldn't help it. I screamed.

Dimitri Turgenev, my sweet-as-pie boyfriend, was standing not a meter away from me. But what had stopped my heart was that he was holding a deadly black pistol, whose barrel was aimed straight at my heart. He was breathing hard, his brown eyes glittering and determined. He was also wearing a bulletproof vest, and had a mike in his ear. Mason and Eddie were standing behind him. For a few seconds we stood, just looking at each other, trying to figure out what had happened. Or at least, that's what I was doing. There was no shock on his face, which seemed on the contrary deadly calm.

"I suggest you put your weapon on the ground, Hathaway," he said through gritted teeth. I didn't move a muscle. My eyes were still trained on him, on the fact that he was here, the fact that my double life had caught up to me with the most catastrophic consequences possible, worse than any of my nightmares. I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran. Which by all accounts was a pretty shitty idea, something I realized about a second afterwards.

"Jokes," I muttered, and, spinning round, I jumped on the roof of the car, landing on his back and bringing his to the ground under me. The next few minutes involved us rolling around on the ground trying to beat the crap out of each other.

"Nice-to meet-you, Detective Belikov," I snarled, punctuating each word with a blow, and he smiled back rather vindictively.

"Likewise, Rosemarie." A crushing blow to my ribs winded me and left me gasping on the ground, whilst he rolled away and stood. When I looked up, his weapon was trained directly at my temple, and Mason had picked up mine.

"You know the drill," Dimitri said coldly.

"You won't shoot me," I whispered. A flicker of hesitation crossed his features, which was all the conformation I needed.

"I won't kill you," he replied. "I will, however shoot you to stop an escape." I rolled my eyes, slowly standing up.

"Most romantic thing you've ever said," I said with grim good humor. Hey, gotta find the silver lining, right? And right now, that involved every single cheesy, cliché pick up line or smartass comment I'd ever used, seen or read. A little bit of an amused smile crossed his face in a familiar way, lighting up his gorgeous eyes before he quashed it, turning me around and I felt handcuffs click behind me.

"Didn't know you liked that kind of stuff," I quipped. He chuckled briefly.

"Yes, I was waiting for that," he sighed. "You are under arrest. You have the right to-"

"Sorry, officer," I interrupted in my most annoying voice. "For what, exactly?"

"-Remain silent, you have the right to-"

"For what?" I yelled, swinging around to face him, or trying. Before I got the chance to, I felt myself slammed back down against the front of the police car, only just remembering to turn my face to the side in time to avoid a broken nose. Even so, it winded me.

"Damnit, Dimitri!" I hissed, but knew better than to struggle, it would only make things worse. Silently, he put me in the backseat whilst he drove and Mason got in the passenger seat, Eddie disappeared, presumably to go and calm down the building managers. As the car pulled out of the parking lot, I rested my forehead against the window. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to feel. I suppose it served me right, for letting this double life go on so long. But it did not serve me right to end up in a police cruiser whilst Dashkov was about to effectively try and hold the world to ransom. I had a couple choices. I could choose to be contrite, to plead guilty and let them do their worst. Nope. I could choose to be completely silent. Not likely. Or-I grinned, looking at Dimitri's seat, and remembering how much he hated people kicking it. Or I could be completely and utterly obnoxious.

Please, take a wild, random guess at which one I chose.

* * *

**Christian POV**

"Oh shit," I muttered, jogging up to Rose's building. "Oh, shit. This is not good." I took a look at the SWAT cars that were packing up, and all the police cruisers speeding off, the happy-looking officers talking to the pale building managers. They got her, I thought. They must have got her. Suddenly my phone rang and I cursed. It was Lissa.

"Chris?" She said, sounding panicked. "I'm in Rose's apartment, I'm so confused. The SAS came up here looking for her and asking me questions about her and I didn't know what to say and I'm so confused," she cried. I grimaced. _Double shit._

"Liss, come down, I'm outside. We'll go to my apartment." Within moments I saw her exit the building, looking, even for Liss, extremely pale.

"I'm so confused," she said, distressed. "She had a gun, she was running around packing things, and then they came for her," she told me. I grimaced, putting my arm around her.

"Just wait until we get to my place." She blinked.

"Do you know something about this?" She asked, incredulous. I winced. She spun to look at me, outraged.

"Christian Ozera, you tell me-"

"Liss. Shh," I hissed. "I promise I will explain everything, but not here. There are people around." She gaped at me.

"You've gone crazy," she stated flatly. "You really are insane." I nodded, conceding that this was most probably true, and ushered her down the few blocks towards my apartment. Once inside, I locked and bolted the door, drawing the blinds down.

"You tell me what the hell is going on!" She demanded. "Are you and her together? What's happened? Why were the police there? Why did she have a gun? Why did you-"

"Liss, calm down," I said tiredly, pulling out a chair for her. I took a deep breath, and met her questioning green eyes with trepidation.

"There's… something you need to know about Rose."

* * *

**Another POV**

It was five pm when I stalked down the street towards Christian Ozera's apartment, letting myself into the building with the key I'd stolen a month ago. Then, I called his mobile.

"Who is this?" His voice said.

"This is the Benefactor," I informed him. He frowned.

"Dude, you have a weird-ass voice. Why the hell didn't you stop them getting Rose today?"

"Even I'm not that powerful," I said heavily, hoping that my phone's built-in voice scrambler could mask my guilt. I'd wanted to try and help her, but I'd been forbidden.

"The CIA needs to hear what she has to say," I continued. "She has friends there. She will be safe for the time being, but her safety will not last."

"What are we going to do?" He asked, sounding tired.

"I am at the door to your apartment," I told him coolly. "May I come in?" As I said that, I knocked.

"Um, yeah, okay," he said, sounding very much wierded out. Smiling to myself, I opened the door to see a half-dressed Christian pulling on a shirt. When his head popped out, his eyes nearly fell out of his head.

"You…You're the benefactor?" I snapped the phone shut.

"I am indeed," I said coolly.

"All along? You? Holy mother of god. You hid it well."

"I try," I said, smirking. "Now, are you going to listen? We need to get Rose out of there, but not too soon. Alberta and Mikhail and Janie need the information she has, and with a little luck, she'll tell them."

"This is Rose," he growled. "You know? Rose who won't even tell you where she hid the chocolate Hathaway?" I smiled.

"I believe Dimitri will do that for us."

"He won't hurt her," Christian disagreed. "He might hate her now, but he'd never hurt her."

"I know. They love each other." I gave Christian a conspirator-like wink. "That's why she'll tell him. As for now, you need to pack a bag, get the girls and come with me." He straightened up, frowning.

"Why?" I sighed.

"Let's just say that if you don't, Victor Dashkov will have all of you dead within the hour." He stared at me for a few seconds, then nodded grimly.

"Okay. I'll make some calls."

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**WOW! So it finally happened and I think I'm happy with the way everything ended up. Did you like the way it all happened? Who on earth is the Benefactor? What will Rose and Dimitri do? More Rose/Dimitri coming up super soon! REVIEW!**

**Em xx**


	17. Chapter 17: All Over Again

**Guys! I go 30 reviews for that last chapter. THIRTY! Y'all are amazing and I'm so glad you love this story as much as I do ;) So enjoy!**

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The room was stuffy and cramped, with only just enough room for a table plus two chairs. There was a fan in the corner that was proving useless, serving only to irritate me. I was sitting in one of the chairs, my wrists handcuffed around the back, waiting for the asshole of the universe to show up. I smirked to myself. He was probably still getting over the trauma I'd put him through in the car. Lucky Mason had been there, I thought, or he would have probably either crashed the car or tried to kill me. I'd thought it was pretty hilarious, and even Mason was wracked with silent laughter seeing this six-foot-seven tough guy taken down by the slow but deliberate thumping on the back of his chair, each thump driving him closer to, and finally over, the brink of insanity. It was only after he'd threatened to lock me in the boot that I'd decided it might be wise to stop. Actually, he hadn't threatened, he'd stopped in the middle of the highway-much to the road rage of the general population of the highway- and carried me to the boot before I sullenly agreed not to do it anymore, but the damage had already been done by then.

I was at the CIA headquarters about three hours out of New York, one of the largest headquarters, and also conveniently where Alberta and Mikhail (my two old mentors) and my dear darling mother spent most of their time. I hadn't seen any of the above yet, but I was sure it would come. We had arrived about an hour ago, I'd been in this room ever since. Being on the receiving end of the CIA's wrath wasn't really very nice, I thought. I'd been on the giving-wrath end for the majority of my life. Just then, the door opened, and in walked the man himself, looking considerably tougher than he had an hour ago. I smirked.

"Good thing I can't kick your chair from here, huh?" He ignored me, and flicked the lights on, making me squint from the harsh glare.

"Hey!" I protested, but then grinned, leaning back in my chair lazily. "Oh, I get it. You have ways," I intoned gravely. "You have ways…of making me talk," I drawled. I saw a flicker of a smile on his face before he banished it and a serious, straight expression replaced it.

"My name is Detective Dimitri Belikov," he said stiffly, and I giggled.

"I _know_," I emphasized. "Jeez, Comrade, shoved a stick up your butt recently?" He frowned thoughtfully, toying with his pen.

"No. Just found out my girlfriend was a wanted murderer. That's all," he said nonchalantly.

"You weren't exactly honest to god either," I snapped.

"I wasn't hiding anything."

"Then why lie?" I challenged, and he sighed, seeming to prepare himself mentally.

"Stop it, Rose. This is where I ask the questions, and you shut up until I do so."

"Don't give me that bullshit," I snarled. "Why did you lie to me?" He raised his eyebrows, seemingly about to launch into a huge _"well-why-did-you-lie-to-me-oh-that's-right-you're-a-murderer"_ spiel, but controlled himself.

"I didn't trust you," he said coolly.

"I guess that makes two of us," I agreed.

"I didn't come here to play nice, Rose," he told me coldly. _Ouch_." I came here to find out how you will plead at your trial."

"To what?" I asked sweetly, and my tone of voice clearly antagonized him, because I saw a muscle jump in his jaw. "To killing people who betrayed not only me, but this organization and this country?" I asked, somewhat thoughtfully. "Yeah. I'd plead guilty to that."

"Douru's evidence saved you on that," he told me curtly. "There's an inquiry into all of them going on and the Strigori are being carefully monitored. But as both of us know, you also murdered Tatiana." My eyebrows shot up immediately.

"Tatiana? As in the Director?"

"Don't play dumb," he growled. "It doesn't suit you."

"I…I didn't kill Tatiana," I said, a little bewildered. He rolled his eyes.

"Sure. Your blood was found at the scene, as was a gun with your fingerprints on it." I shook my head.

"No…I was there, I went to talk to her, and then she tried to kill me…"

"So you made a run for it, then got trapped, shot her, and ran," Dimitri finished. "I know. The security guards told us everything."

"No," I said, getting more and more irritated. "She tried to kill me, so I ran, got trapped, the guard took my gun, she would have killed me if it wasn't for the Benefactor." I paused, giving him a smug smile.

"I'll bet you found strange tire tracks on the front lawn, which doesn't make sense because my car was parked down the street. I also bet that the bullet that killed her didn't match up with my gun, and I bet that both of the security guards are dead or will be, very soon." He stared at me blankly, looking a little more than pissed off. Suddenly his phone beeped, and he studied the message, cursing in Russian, threading his hands through his hair.

"Problem?" I asked, all innocence.

"One of  
the bodyguards has been found dead," he told me shortly, and I grinned.

"Told you," I crooned. "Score one for Hathaway, nil for Belikov." I fully expected him to ignore that last comment, and he didn't disappoint.

"What do you plead?" He asked. I rolled my eyes.

"What do you think?" He shrugged. I sighed in irritation.

"Not guilty."

"Suit yourself," he muttered, writing something down, then glancing back up to fix me with a surprisingly piercing gaze from the soft brown eyes I knew so well.

"Who is the Benefactor?" He asked bluntly. I shrugged.

"Wouldn't I like to know." His eyes narrowed, and he leaned back to flick on a higher light beam, making me wince, trying to shade my eyes.

"Ow!" I complained. "Quit it, jerk." He shrugged.

"I've got all night."

"You need a life, then," I muttered. A smile widened on his face.

"Well, if memory serves me correctly, we were supposed to have a date tonight."

"Well then, so be it," I said grandly. "First of all-handcuffs. What a buzz kill," I noted, throwing them over the table to him, having successfully picked the lock. I paused.

"Unless, of course, you're into that kind of thing." He smiled faintly, and immediately, I knew what I could rile him up about next.

"Spoken to Olena recently?" I asked, all innocence. It worked within seconds as his face darkened and hardened.

"You stay the hell away from my family," he said evenly, only just controlling his temper. I shrugged.

"No, they're lovely. Olena, and Yeva, and Vikto-" his hands came slamming down on the table, cutting me off as he leaned over the table towards me.

"If you are trying to tell me you're threatening me with them, things are going to get extremely unpleasant for you," he growled. I paused, frowning.

"Threaten them? You really think I'd do that?" He laughed shortly.

"You killed twelve people."

"Eleven," I hissed. He ignored me.

"There's not a lot I don't think you'd do," he told me. I stood to face off against him.

"Take that back," I said, dangerously. "Take it back." He smirked.

"No. It's true." He deflected a punch with ease, but my next blow landed on him. He retaliated with a crushing force to my ribs, sending me a few steps backwards. I reached under my dress for the gun, pointing it at him-and then it was…gone?

"Glock .9. Very nice," he said appreciatively, twirling it expertedly in his hands. "You know how to use one of these?"

"No, you moron," I spat, extremely peeved he had been able to disarm me so quickly. "I carry it because it's pretty," I hissed. He shrugged.

"Either way, it's not very nice," he said, pocketing it. He turned to regard me, with something almost akin to sadness in his eyes.

"I didn't want to believe it," he said thoughtfully. Out of my own accord, I stepped closer.

"You have to believe me," I said quietly. "I didn't kill Tatiana, Dimitri," I told him, meeting and holding his gaze. He leaned in as well.

"Why should I believe you? Why should I trust you?" He said harshly, and my fiery temper on out over my patience, and I shoved him.

"Because it's the truth!" I shouted. "You know it's the truth!" I delivered a few swift, short blows to him before I felt myself shoved away, dealt with in a few quick but devastatingly powerful moves that made stars of pain swim before my eyes, sending me gasping to the ground. I was aware that he knelt beside me, and my hazed brain thought I registered concern, worry in his eyes, before he stood up, and offered me a hand, which I refused, helping myself up, and found that a few guards had come, grabbing my arms and re-cuffing my hands behind me back.

"Go-to-hell," I coughed, trying to summon my best haughty glare, but it probably failed quite spectacularly. He winked at me.

"I'll see you there." Before I was dragged away, he stepped closer until we were nearly touching, leaning in until his lips nearly touched my ear.

"One all, Roza," he murmured, and then was gone.

* * *

The next morning, I was back in another, similar room, but this one was a bit bigger. My heart sank when I saw who was in there already-Alberta and Mikhail. Both studied me as I was pushed inside the room, and Alberta's hazel eyes softened a little as she crossed to me.

"Hey, sweetheart," she sighed. "Long time, no see."

"Why must you always get yourself into the most impossible scrapes, Hathaway?" Mikhail asked me tiredly. "You know how much red tape you're caused? Enough to wrap the fucking moon in," he informed me, drawing a vague smile from me at his usual matter-of-fact tone, combined with a Texan drawl.

"I didn't"-I began, but Alberta cut me off.

"Rose, can it. You'll get plenty of time at the trial."

"Which is when?"

"Tomorrow," said a curt voice behind me, and I turned to see my mother.

"Well howdy-do, ma," I said sarcastically. Her jaw tightened.

"Rosemarie." She turned her attention to Alberta. "The trial is taking place at five pm tomorrow," she informed her in her usual brisk, clipped tone. Alberta nodded, trying to look at me comfortingly.

"All right. Rose, are you sure you want to plead-"

"Wait just there," drawled another voice, as a man stepped into the room, making me grin, Dimitri, Alberta and Mikhail pause, and my mother drain of color entirely.

"I believe Ms. Hathaway is entitled to an attorney," my father said lazily. "My name is Abe Mazur, I'll be representing her."

"Mazur?" Dimitri said incredulously. "God, it must run in the family," he muttered.

"What?" My father and I asked at the same time, but wisely, Dimitri took the opportunity to shut up. My father swung around to Dimitri, scrutinizing him.

"Huh. I don't like you."

"That makes two of us, Dimitri said, completely unintimidated by him, which was no mean feat whatsoever.

"Hey, that was my line," I protested, but they were too busy staring each other down to pay much notice. Suddenly, my Dad winked at my mom, causing her to go the same shade of red as her hair.

"Morning, Janie. Last time I saw you was when kiz was born." He smiled fleetingly." Birth and arrest, all the major life events, huh?" He said dryly.

"I suppose," my mother said stiffly, very clearly uncomfortable. My father gave me a peck on the cheek, then smiled.

"Well, I was only popping in. I'll see you tomorrow, kiz," he told me." Alberta. Mikhail. Janie. Belikov," he said, slightly coldly, then exited as quietly as he had come.

"Well, shit," Mikhail mumbled to Alberta. Both of them left, quickly followed by my mother, and then only Dimitri and I were left in the room.

"A word of advice…Alberta and Mikhail are trying to be on your side," he told me quietly. "Don't screw them over."

"Which side are you on?" I murmured. "When it comes time to choose…who is it going to be?" He frowned, and I realized this was a matter that had cost him endless hours of sleep from the haunted, slightly pained expression he adopted.

"I don't know," he said slowly, uncertainly, but then put his mask back up. "Just don't make them look like idiots. What they are doing is dangerous."

"Why?" I asked. "It's just a trial." He looked at me with emotion in his eyes, a strange emotion I had a lot of trouble deciphering.

"Rose…You're going to court for a charge of treason." I raised my eyebrows in my best so-what expression. He paused, looking all around the room before he finally managed to look back at me, stepping a little closer. I watched his brows knit together in worry and even a little kindness, and the next words seemed to cause him pain.

"They execute traitors, Roza," he murmured, then sidestepped past me, leaving me alone once more.

* * *

**Oh my! Dimitri seems to be very conflicted, but Alberta and Mikhail believe Rose. TWO CHAPTERS LEFT! Eeek! Please review, this took me so long to write!**

**Em xx**


	18. Chapter 18: A Promise and a Bomb

**Once again, a big thanks to all my readers! Enjoy ;)**

* * *

_They execute traitors_. Those words rang in my mind for hours after Dimitri had left. I sat alone in the room, my knees pulled into my chest, thinking. There was no way I could win. Tatiana had links to the Strigori, I was sure of it, and if they thought I had killed her, they'd take their revenge. So who had set me up? The answer came to me naturally. Victor Dashkov, of course. The same person who had set me up in the very beginning. If he was going to try and steal information from the Strigori, it only made sense that he'd use a decoy-me. Then when they were all scrambling over themselves to have me shot, he'd be able to slip away with the information. It would be far too late by the time they realized. Dashkov would be on the other side of the world, and I would be dead.

I groaned in frustration, standing up to pace the little room. Suddenly, my anger overtook everything, and I swung around, giving the door a huge kick. It was therapeutic, but it didn't budge. I sat back down, my anger still simmering. Why had this happened to me? Why had I become the scapegoat for all of Dashkov's deeds? I had been a good person. Hell, I was a good person. Even back in the Academy, sure, I'd had a fierce temper and took absolutely zero bullshit, but I wasn't bad. I had done my duty to the people who had raised me, to Alberta and Mikhail, to the academy and all its teachers, to the country that I had vowed to protect at all costs. But in doing so I had found myself entangled in a web far greater than mine, implicated and blamed for the wrongdoings of others. I tightened my jaw. I couldn't go in there tomorrow-or rather, today, and stay silent. I wasn't going to be intimidated into a guilty plea and beg for a life sentence instead of death. I had to blow the goddamn lid off this whole thing, come what may. That was the right thing to do. I sighed heavily. I knew it was right, but it wasn't going to be easy. I wanted Eddie and Mason on my side, arguing fiercely for me. I wanted Dimitri.

He was the singular most loyal, dependable person I knew, and once he believed in something he was even stubborner than I was in letting it go. But he didn't believe me. He thought me guilty, and he was right in doing so. The door handle was turned suddenly and I jumped, disbelieving that it could be morning already. I saw Dimitri's face through the crack of light in the door, and when he saw me awake he pushed it open further. He must have been sleeping somewhere around there-he was wearing what had become familiar to me-a pair of dark sweats and a stupid shirt-in this case, the superman one I'd given to him about two months ago.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked, and, sensing this wasn't the right moment for sarcasm, I nodded. "Me either," he replied, and passed me a mug of what I found to be hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows on top.

"Thank you," I said quietly, and the bed dipped as he saw down next to me. He smiled, his eyes lighting up just like they always used to. We sat in a comfortable silence, both finding something comforting about the other's presence. He put the empty mugs on the floor, and his arm came around me. If not for the lock on the door and the bare walls, we could have almost been sitting in my apartment watching TV.

"Roza, I wanted to apologize," he told me. "The things I've said to you since you've been here…I didn't mean them, and I know it hurt you to hear me say them." I shook my head.

"Dimitri, it's ok. You-"he shook his head.

"I wasn't looking at it from your perspective," he said, cutting me off with a bit of a smile. "I can't imagine what it must have been like, and I would have done exactly what you did, Roza." I nodded, my heart warming, and leant closer into him.

"I hated lying to you," I breathed. "You have no idea how much I hated it. I never wanted this to happen. I shouldn't have got involved with you. I'm sorry." He sighed, then shook his head.

"Neither of us knew. Do you regret it?" He asked, and I frowned.

"What?"

"Do you regret…us?" He asked, looking afraid of my answer. I nearly laughed.

"Of course I don't. Not at all." He nodded, stroking my hair.

"Me either. Rose," he whispered, coming even closer to me. "I love you so much, and I've made my choice based on what is right." I swallowed hard, casting my eyes downward. He tilted my chin upwards, making me meet his determined eyes.

"Whatever happens today, promise me you won't forget that I love you," he whispered. I nodded, and squeezed his hand, the unspoken promise in my eyes. Gently, he brought his face closer to mine and gave me a soft kiss, one that spoke of gentleness and misunderstanding and heartbreak. Neither of us knew if we'd be alive at the end of the day. We were so close, yet so far apart, bound by duty to ourselves, to others, to do what we had to. I knew this was more than just a kiss-it was a goodbye, and it was an apology for what he had to become once the sun rose and there were no shadows to hide under.

"I have to go," he murmured, when we both finally pulled away. "Remember, Roza, you promised," he whispered, slipping out of the room as quietly as he had come.

* * *

The court was about an hour's drive away, so the whole circus started about three o'clock as I was pushed into an armored car. I hadn't seen my mother at all, and when I had seen Dimitri he had been cold and distant-though it hurt, I remembered my promise to him, and tried not to mind. Now, he was driving the car, which also had two more agents in it that I didn't know. I kept catching glances of him in the mirror, but just as he looked, I'd look away, and would then catch him staring at me, which was when he hastily averted his own gaze. My heartbeat was erratic, jumping from absolute certainty that they'd see I hadn't killed Tatiana to absolute certainty I was about to die. Eventually my emotions settled somewhere inbetween, in an awful kind of limbo. The car ride blurred past and eventually the courthouse came into sight.

"Something's not right," muttered the agent sitting next to me. "We weren't supposed to be the first to arrive."

"Radio contact's gone," Dimitri cursed, cruising around the parking lot clearly casing the scene.

"There's Alberta, Mikhail's car is behind her," the agent said as three more cars pulled up. Finally, Dimitri pulled into a space I the near-deserted car-park, and had just turned around to speak to the agent in the backseat when it happened.

There was a huge blasting noise, and the car flipped over into its side. The car exploded, causing me to hit my head on the window and land half in-half out of the car.

"Get out!" Dimitri yelled. "It's going to-"another mini-explosion went off, sending all four of us flying, and vaguely I heard the voices of Alberta and the other agents as they began to run over. I had landed the farthest away from the burning car, but immediately, upon seeming Dimitri slumped, still half-in the driver's seat, began sprinting back through the smoke. I heard the screech of tires, but didn't look behind me as I charged towards him. Feet clattered behind me, and strong arms grabbed mine, pulling me backwards.

"Dimitri!" I screamed, struggling against them, and, horrified, saw him raise his head, part of his face bleeding. I shoved an elbow into the person trying to drag me, and ran back towards him. I staggered backwards as I was hit with the butt of a weapon to the back of my head, wincing in pain. My knees gave way and I landed near Dimitri, trying to make my way through the smoke to get to him. Suddenly, I saw the wave of a black coat, recognizing it as the familiar one of the benefactor.

"Help me!" I screamed, my voice choked by the ash. "Help him!" I croaked, feeling myself pulled away.

"No!" I yelled, struggling in the strong grip the tall, black-masked person carrying me away. "No, help him!" I begged, but I was losing consciousness from the smoke inhalation, my struggles weakening. I felt more arms take me, felt myself thrown, then caught, placed in what felt like the back of a car as it took off amid a squad of gunfire. Against my will, my eyes closed on the distressing, frightening world I was leaving behind.

* * *

**As always, reviews are welcomed. One more chapter, guys!**

**Em xx**


	19. Chapter 19: So, Where Do We Begin?

**The final chapter is here, and a massive thank-you to all of the readers/reviewers. Your support really motivated me to do this story and I'm so glad you've enjoyed it as much as I have. I'm not ready to give this story up just yet, I really love all the characters and their dynamic, so YES, there will be a sequel. Anyway, go ahead and read it, please leave me a review! **

* * *

The room I awoke in was foreign to me, and I sat up, blinking painfully. I was lying sideways in an armchair in a small, cavernous room with high ceilings and ornate lights on the wall, throwing shadows across the beautiful timber floors. Oil paintings adorned the stone walls, and I got the distinct impression that this was a very old, very fancy place. There was something about it that felt strange-was it underground? It couldn't possibly be, it was too grand, to beautiful. There was an archway leading into another room, but I dared not go in. This was somebody's house, presumably. But whose? I suddenly realized I was not alone here-the tall, black figure stood studying a painting, with its back to me. My heart pounded erratically as I knew I was about to find out the identity my benefactor. I swung myself around in the chair and stood, taking a tentative step towards the cloaked figure.

"Who are you?" I whispered, and the nervous sound echoed across the room. The figure turned gracefully, and a balaclava was pulled away. Long caramel hair and a familiar pale face were revealed, making me gasp and wish I hadn't stood up.

"I'm the benefactor," Sydney said calmly, a knowing smile in her eyes. My jaw went slack as I stared at her a little dumbly.

"Sydney? You?" I asked again. She nodded, smiling faintly, and passed me a glass of what I presumed to be alcohol.

"Here, drink that. It'll make you feel a lot better, and you're going to need it." I downed it in one, and the strong alcohol burned my throat, but made me feel a whole lot calmer.

"I-I can't believe it," I stammered. She nodded at me giving my hand a squeeze.

"I know. It's going to be okay, I promise," she told me quietly. There was a clattering of feet behind me, and Sydney' face brightened.

"About time," she called.

"You aren't the only one who can keep a secret, Rose," said a quiet voice I instantly recognized, and I swung around.

"Lissa?" I breathed, and she grinned at me.

"Damn straight she isn't," Mia chimed in from behind her, giving me a wink. "Hi, Rosie."

"You're-you-you knew?" I stammered. "All along?"

"No," Sydney said, a smile curving on her features. "Lissa and Mia had no idea, up until the day you were arrested. Dashkov put a hit out on them, so I found Christian and brought them here for safety."

"What about you, Syd?" I asked. Her eyes softened, but still shone.

"Oh, no. I've known about you since the very beginning, Rose."

"Oh my god," I mumbled, sitting back down, and putting my face in my hands. "What have I done?" I looked up at Lissa and Mia. "I'm so sorry. I've implicated you in this, this is exactly what I never wanted. I'm so, so sorry," I said, biting back tears, and Lissa shook her head, rushing over to give me a huge hug.

"No, Rose, don't be sorry. You did what was right."

"And besides, it's not like we were entirely uninvolved in the first place," Mia said dryly. I frowned, cocking my head to regard her quizzically.

"What do you mean, Mia?" She rolled her eyes, dragging up another vintage ottoman.

"O Lord, here we go," she mumbled. "Again." I widened my eyes at Lissa in a _please-explain-I'm-so-confused way_, and she laughed. Sydney came back with another tray of drinks.

"I worked as a profiler on the Douru case," Lissa told me, rather matter-of-factly. "We never met; it was such a huge project, as you know, and I was in the psych unit at another headquarters based in Detroit." I gaped wordlessly at her, and she giggled.

"I was a spy," Mia contributed. "For the Americans, in the Russian embassy. I was there monitoring Dashkov's movements, even then they were suspicious of him. They pulled me out just before you got crapped on, Rose. We never met because it was one huge mofo of an operation, there were people all over the world, above and underground, working on it". I glanced at Sydney wryly.

"And I'm guessing you're a part of the underground part, right?" She grinned at me.

"Good guess. I am with the Guardians," Sydney told me. "In particular, a small subset of them known as the Alchemists. Even before Rosemarie I was monitoring your operation, and when you popped up on the map in New York, I recognized you immediately. That was when they put me onto tracking you. I was there every single night," she told me with the faintest shadow of smugness.

"So was all the smoke and mirrors crap really necessary?" I asked. "The whole voice alterations and random messages left at my apartment, and tampering with the security footage?" She paused, her brow wrinkling thoughtfully.

"No, probably not, but it sure did annoy the hell out of you," she said with an impish grin.

"Got that right," I muttered.

"Point is, Rose," Lissa chimed in. "We all want to see justice done to Dashkov, we all want to make sure he doesn't get away with this."

"We can totally be like Charlie's angels!" Mia squealed, causing all of us to laugh, and she scowled. Lissa shook her head at Mia's antics. It was now seeming possible that Mia was well on her way to becoming more than a little tipsy-she'd had three gins already, and her five-foot-three frame probably couldn't take much more until she resorted to Bohemian Rhapsody again.

"You made the right choice," Lissa told me determinedly. "It's caused the CIA to crumble into a shambles. There's a huge inquiry into the Strigori going on. It's chaos over there, nobody knows who to turn to."

"Just what Dashkov wanted," I said grimly. "This is when he's going to try and do it." I glanced at Sydney. "We have to try and stop him."

"We're in a good position to do so," Sydney said matter-of-factly. "Intelligence has it that they believe you kidnapped by the Strigori, or killed in the explosion." My breath caught in my throat, and Lissa rolled her eyes at me.

"Rose, Dimitri's fine. In hospital being treated for smoke inhalation and a few nasty burns, but he was lucky. Apparently, he tried to break out of the hospital earlier today, so he seems well on the way to recovery." Her face saddened. "But, um, Rose, he-"

"He thinks I did it, doesn't he?" I said quietly. "Exploded the car. Organized the whole thing." Lissa bit her lip, and nodded.

"Yeah."

"I have to go back to him," I murmured.

"You can't," Sydney said sharply. Rose, "many people there want you dead. You will get a chance to make things right with him, I promise you." There was a long pause.

"Where are we?" I asked, looking around.

"This is the underground headquarters for the Guardians. It's a very old, very secretive organization, they've got links as far back as the George Washington era, also linked in with the Masons somehow-very mysterious stuff, but they mean well. We don't play for any particular side, we're just here to make sure it's all fair," Sydney told me.

"Later today we're moving out of the US, it's getting too dangerous to be here," Mia told me. "Our flight to the Caribbean leaves in about an hour. We need to be close enough to stay involved, but they probably think we'll go further away." Suddenly the door opened, and Christian swaggered in with a huge grin on his face.

"Sleeping beauty's finally awake, huh?" He jibed.

"Call me that ever again and I'll-"

"Neuter me, yeah, I've heard it before." Suddenly, Adrian Ishkavov walked in the door with an even bigger grin on his face, causing me to jump like I'd been electrified.

"Adrian? What are you doing here? Please don't tell me it's because Dashkov tried to kill you, too," I said. He shook his head.

"No, little spy. My family was one of the founding members of the Guardians. Whilst we've drifted away in recent years, I'm still allowed to be involved as much as I like."

"Kiz," a tired voice said from behind me, and I swung around to see my father, almost knocking him over with a hug.

"That wasn't quite what I had in mind to happen at the court, but it'll do," he told me, making me laugh.

"Why are you here?" He grinned a little wickedly at me.

"I knew Sydney here was involved with the Guardians, so I made some calls and got myself made an honory member." I glanced around at the many smiling faces.

"Please, tell me there's no more surprises. All I need now is to find out Santa Claus is running this joint and his second in command is SpongeBob Squarepants."

"No, this is it," Lissa told me, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"So, what do we do? We faked our deaths, escaped, now what? We go after Dashkov? We start all over again? Or is it over for real this time?" A few small smiles and laughs broke out among my friends as they exchanged knowing glances and I suddenly became uneasy, shifting my weight to look at Sydney for an explanation.

"Oh no, Rose," Sydney said coolly. "In two months' time, Victor Dashkov will have his hands on the nuclear weaponry plans of every single country the Strigori has access to. What he plans to do with them is still up for debate. But no answer your question in short, no; I'm afraid this is only just the beginning."

"Knew it," I muttered, then looked around and took a deep breath, studying each and every face here hard. I could see right now that the road ahead was dangerous, full of twists and turns, betrayal and heartbreak and uncertainty. I took a moment to collect myself, preparing to buckle in for yet another chapter in the convoluted, entangled web that had become my life.

"So, where do we begin?" I asked quietly.

* * *

**EPILOUGE**

At a darkened office in central New York, the mole sat at their desk. They relished the anonymity, the fact that they could get in and get out so quickly, so quietly, and that nobody would even think twice about the possibility of them being the mole. With the CIA in chaos it had been even easier to be nobody, to simply materialize in here. The thrill of anonymity both excited and scared them. The mole opened up their computer, and the eerie light lit up a small circle of the otherwise pitch black room, giving it a strange, almost alien feel. Carefully, they typed a location, then a string of names into the waiting email. How one simple line could alter the course of both another's life, and the course of history, they mused. For this wasn't a simple game anymore. It had tangled irrevocably, and now one simple slip could send someone falling, shattering the entire plan. That's why secrecy was so essential. They studied the single line once more.

_Trinidad, the Caribbean. Hathaway. Sage. Dragomir. Rinaldi. Ishkavov. Ozera._

The mole hit send, and smiled. Dashkov could do the rest.

* * *

Later that evening, the mole stalked along the pathway in central park, taking care to stay out of the streetlights. Spotting the target, the job was done quickly, brutally, bloodily. Standing gracefully, they took a flashlight and studied the calligraphy they had stolen from the psychology analysis department. Carefully, using the exact same lipstick, they signed a name. _Rosemarie._ They enjoyed the fact that with their actions, friend would turn on friend, lover on lover, and heartbreak and revenge would be inescapable. Just exactly what they had been ordered to do. The mole smiled fleetingly as they walked away from the body, disappearing into the night.

Belikov could do the rest. And the best was yet to come.

* * *

**IMPORTANT SEQUEL INFORMATION/SUMMARY!**

Rosemarie Returns

_Sequel to Rose by Day, Thorn by Night. Rose Hathaway and her friends have escaped the CIA's clutches and been recruited to the underworld Guardians, an organization determined to wreak havoc upon the intelligence agencies of the world. But all is not as it seems as the web tangles with betrayal, unfinished business and unrequited love. Rosemarie's back-darker and more vengeful than ever._

**I won't be posting the sequel until next year, I'm so so sorry! I'll be without my laptop for the entire Christmas break, it's a school laptop and I have to give it back. But that does mean that I can write or at least plan most of it, so once I get back in mid-January, I can dive straight back into the story.**

**OMG! It's finally done and I'm super happy with it. Unfortunately, that was a big cliffy (sorry about that, it had to be done!) and there's so much more that's got to happen. I have decided that this story is going to have three parts to it, and this is the first part completely finished now.**

**REALLY IMPORTANT!: If you've got to the end of this story, please leave me a review with one thing you did like, and one thing you didn't like about it! Constructive criticism would be much appreciated.**

**THANKS FOR READING GUYS! Look out for "Rosemarie Returns" early next year, have a wonderful Christmas!**

**Em xx**


	20. UPDATE

**HI ALL!**

**A quick update from me. I'm back from holidays and the first chapter of the sequel to this story is now available! I'm really excited to start writing it and I hope you guys are going to like it as well. Happy reading! **

**Em xx**


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